A Taste of Heaven in Hell: Book 2
by Kuro The Dark Ringmaster
Summary: Sebastian is back, and six years had changed the once timid chef, he is one of the most sought after chefs and become quite a force. William and Ronald are busy as well, as Enigma blossoms. The only issue is the arrival of two tings: Claude and a certain business card. The past is bound to catch up eventually. Related to "A Taste of Heaven in Hell". AU OOC BL S/C, R/W, D/V
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

Things are never as they seem, and it isn't uncommon for the observer to have to look closer to get the entire picture. Yet, if that individual looks too closely they may miss the grand scheme of things. It's this delicate balance between knowing the details and the bigger picture that makes a game hard to play. Sometimes, the player just needs a hint to in order to realize just where to look. It is the timing of these hints, however, which alter the game as the mastermind continues to execute his strategy.

The room was dark, the only source of light was a large LCD monitor sitting on a desk, the eerie blue light illuminated the room just enough for the vague outline of bookshelves on one wall to be notes. It bounced off the glass of picture frames making it possible to see the images faces. Many of them were of a red haired young man with headphones around his neck smiling with friends. The books on the shelves were stacked haphazardly with a few awards thrown in, one from the Venice Film Festival and an Honorable Mention from the Tribeca Film Festival, a BAFTA and an Oscar, to name a few. Scripts lined the desk, titles shone against various colored paper covers. There was a mug long since empty of precious fuel to the left of a young man's elbow.

Sitting in a rather comfortable chair with headphones around his neck and a pair of black and blue glasses on his nose was a redhead. His bright red hair was rather long and had been jaggedly cut, looking more like a stylist had a field day with scissors than attempting to tame it. It was spiked in a number of directions, thanks to the clever use of gel and bobby pins to hold it in place, a portion of his bangs hung over his left eye and he flicked it out of the way with his fingers. Three silver piercings glistened in the blue light in one ear, he had high cheek bones with a rather delicate nose. Smokey gray eyes peered through the lenses of his glasses as his lips pursed.

It had been a very long day for Eric Stevenson, the white shirt's collar that he was wearing was open, his tie laying long forgotten on his desk as he continued looking through the footage. It had been a while since the competitions, he could still smell the delicious chocolates, succulent raspberries, earthy green tea, and lush lavender. He watched as Sebastian poured a beautiful ribbon of chocolate into a bowl, his red eyes never leaving the seemingly perfect nearly black satin ribbon falling from a silver bow into another.

It was as though he were there again, listening to the knives clicking against cutting boards, the scream of mixers, and the applause of the crowd as they watched the chef's work magic. The tension in the air as the chefs rushed to do the impossible with what little time they were allotted, and the sweltering heat of both the ovens and the stage lights. He could reach over and run his fingers along the cool glass board used to make pastry dough, it was slick in his memory. The taste of the treats on his tongue and how each dessert caressed his taste buds. It felt as though it were a life time ago, it was difficult to believe six years had passed since then, that show had changed his career.

Eric continued watching the rather raw footage run past his eyes, in his mind he was standing on the set again. That show had changed it all, he had so much to thank the pair of Patissiers for, since their passion and desire to show the world the wonder of pastry had inspired him to go further. He had been sitting in a meeting when he had the urge to look at the footage once again; something was screaming for him to look, it was as though he had missed something. There was a knock on the door before it opened; florescent light from the hallway flooded the room causing him to hiss at the intrusion. "Sorry, Joker, I brought your coffee," said a young woman, her voice was bright and cheerful, he didn't recognize it.

Joker's eyes finally adjusted and he looked over to see a young woman in dress slacks with a red shirt, she had long blonde hair with green eyes that shone brightly against alabaster skin. Nestled between her fingers was a cup from Starbucks. "Here," she said sweetly as she placed it on the desk. She was clearly an intern since she hovered; most of his employees knew to leave him alone when viewing. "Thanks," he said simply before turning his attention to the paused footage. He listened to her leave and the finality of the door's latch catching. He groaned and stretched his arms over his head, he really should have been looking over newer footage but there was something about the footage from the final challenge that was bugging him.

Joker pressed play and reached for his coffee, the cup was light and cold. "What?" he asked in confusion as he lifted it up, it was empty. He glared at the cup with his name on it and growled, "What the hell kind of joke is this?" he stated before tossing the cup in the garbage, only to hear something rattle in it. He was sure it was empty, or at least it had felt it. He reached over into the waste bin and gingerly pulled out the paper cup with the familiar green logo on it. He popped the white lid off and noticed a business car inside. Joker's brows furrowed in confusion as he tipped the paper cup, the business card slipped out with ease.

He flipped it over in his fingers and stared at the card-stock when something flickered by on the monitor. He was quick to pause it and stared at the image on the screen before looking down at the card. "No," he muttered as he held it up to the screen. Just then he realized the blonde wasn't wearing an ID badge, everyone in the building did.

In seconds the Director launched himself from his chair and was out the door. His feet were carrying him down the hallway as he looked frantically for the woman who had brought his coffee. A pair of screenwriters was walking by chatting, "Hey," he said as he grabbed one of them, the taller of the pair looked startled, "Have you seen a blonde?" he asked. The screenwriters laughed, "She's about this tall," he then held his hand up to estimate her height, "Green eyes, fair skin." The pair shrugged and the shorter of the two replied, "Sorry, no."

The business card between his fingers felt even heavier as the pair shook their heads. Joker patted the man he grabbed on the arm and dashed down the hallway, he had dismissed her, and now he really needed to know what was going on. His oxfords clicked against the lanolin floor before he slid around a corner, causing a woman to screech and throw her papers in the air in shock. Joker ignored the falling pages and continued toward the entrance, it was probably the only way the woman knew to get out. People moved out of his way quickly as he ran down the hall like a mad man. There was no telling if she took something while she had walked in. It wasn't uncommon for rivals to send spies to collect scripts and notes on what the competition was doing, especially in the film industry. He slid to a stop and grabbed the glass barrier as he looked over the lobby from the landing.

Just bellow him was the reception desk and a sea of people, all dressed in black, white, navy blue, gray, green and even tan. His eyes darted over the crowd, searching for even a hint of red. He could see the BTN logo on the floor as he searched. There was no way she could have gotten out of the building without being spotted not wearing a badge, someone must have noticed.

He looked around only to finally see a blonde with a red shirt. Without a second thought he began jogging down the stairs, "Stop her!" he shouted as he leapt over the glass railing and landed on the hard floor. A number of people turned and stared at Joker as he pointed at the blonde. "Stop!" he shouted as he pushed through the crowd, the lobby was filled with actors, screenwriters, crew members and investors. "STOP HER!" he shouted once more, the room was filled with chatter and the clicking of shoes. He could feel his heart pounding as he attempted to reach her before she got to the glass doors of the entryway.

He slammed into a pair of men, they were rather muscular and it felt as though he had smashed into a wall, one of whom shouted at him angrily, "Sorry!" he said smoothly as he pushed them out of the way. He watched as she pushed the doors open, "STOP HER!" he screamed, his voice rang through the room causing security to leap into action. Before any of them could reach her the door was open and she was slipping away. Joker growled as he threw the door open and ran into the street. She was a breath away with her hand in the air hailing a cab. "WAIT!" he shouted over the rushing London traffic. The black cab pulled to the curb, Joker's feet were carrying themselves as he attempted to reach her.

He watched as the cab pulled away leaving him standing in the middle of the street. His mind slipped into overdrive, she didn't even have an ID badge, she should have never made it into his sector. The security guards stumbled onto the street, only adding to Joker's frustration for a prestigious studio, they had non-existent security. It wasn't until then he remembered the business card.

Joker's gray eyes fell on the white card between his fingers; it was the same thick card-stock as the first one he had received. The letters VP were centered on the front in the same black font. He quickly flipped it over and stared at the all too familiar tight script on the back. "Not again," he moaned as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, oddly the warm sun wasn't as welcoming as it usually was in the rainy city of London. "Did she take anything?" asked one of the security guards. Joker lowered his head and replied simply, "No, I don't think so, check and make sure," he commanded causing the men to shuffle back into the building.

Once they were gone he looked at the card again, "Just what the hell is going on, I thought we finished this the first time," he stated. All that was on it were two words. It was terrifying how the person sending the cards knew these things.

_Reinvent it. _

Joker tiredly swept his hand over his face, clearly it wasn't over. He looked up at the building behind him, his reputation allowed him to do as he pleased, and now he understood why he had been given the first card. He quickly pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialed an all too familiar number, he held it to his ear, and it was clear that all his notions of getting sleep that night had just been thrown out the window.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **Hello everyone and welcome to Book 2. For those of you who have been waiting patiently, I promise this one will answer all your questions, you just have to give it time. I have a new webpage! Go check it out, I will be adding a cookbook as well as wine list, on top of the playlists for this series. You'll find all sorts of goodies related to this series and my other works there. The link is on my profile._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chasing Shadows**

Many believe the light in New York was vibrant and filled with life, since no matter where they looked the world was beautiful, busy and in a constant rush. On the corner of two streets is a small shop, every morning at four, work begins. The smell of fresh bread with a Brittany Sage can be smelt through the streets, as the ovens come to life. The warmth of chocolate and color of raspberries fills the heart with joy as the customer draws nearer to its source. The shop it's self had a massive landscape window with a Burgundy red awning above it. Nestled bellow it were several small tables with silver chairs. It was a small shop that had done rather well for it's self since it had opened.

The inside was a warm gold with brick walls and large photos of Paris as well as Pastries. A fire place was in the corner with a mantel covered in photos of the restaurant's first opening. Images of chefs and apprentices both old and new smiling and laughing, glass awards of excellence on display as well as certificates. The smell of freshly brewed coffee danced in the air as the sweet scent of chocolate, cinnamon and berries tangled with it.

The soft glow from the fire and the large window made the environment even more inviting. Near the fire was a sofa with a small coffee table and wing-backs, toward the back were wooden tables with chairs, a bar was along one window was a bar with a row of stools. The other window was lined with glass cases, displaying fresh sweets, ready to be tasted. With waiters dressed in traditional black and white with black vests and red ties, they all looked as though they had walked off the set of a film. Each time someone entered they would smile warmly and greet the customer always offering their assistance when ever possible.

Pastries of every size, color and flavor were lined up in the cases in white fluted cups. Each with their own story, memory and even emotion behind them. The morning had flown by rapidly, the doors opened at seven; however it wasn't uncommon for people to ask for orders to be dropped by six. The kitchen was bustling as chefs worked with precision, only the best for the small Patissiere. The familiar appearance of strawberries, cream and puffed pastry stacked sat on a black tray lined with white parchment, ready to go into the case.

"Good morning chef," called a young man. A light voice replied happily, "Good Morning, easy on the cream, don't beat it too hard," the voice directed before slipping out of a midnight blue jumper and into a black chef's coat. "Yes chef," the young man replied with gusto. A smile curved slender lips as slender fingers slipped through silky raven black hair to tie it up. It had gotten longer over the years, in fact it hadn't been cut since the day he flew away so long ago. He slipped a cap over his head to keep his hair out of his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye the chef noticed a white board sitting out with a hand written list proclaiming the specials, "Oi, Sophie, you forgot to put out the sign again!" called an irritated chef as he walked over to it and picked up the rather heavy sign. "Sorry, sir!" called the young woman over the roar of a mixer. "It's alright! I've got it!" he called across the room as he hoisted it under his arm and continued through the front. The room was filled with joyous chatter and laughter, they had just opened and he could see the waiters working every inch of the floor. "Morning," said a young woman with glee as the chef walked by, leaving the scent of lavender and vanilla behind him. The chef simply nodded before stepping out onto the street. A roadster rolled by making him smile, "Good morning Sebastian!" called the rider as he waved before coasting around the corner.

It had been a long time since he had seen his Roadster, sadly he had left it behind in London and never saw it again. When he had arrived in New York he was met by a very formal Charles Grey, an English lawyer and apparently criminal investigator as well, since he remembered him from the night of the bust, who specialized in real-estate and business. To his surprise someone who went by VP had purchased the space for him and given him far more than enough to open his own shop.

Naturally Sebastian did just so, however, no matter how much time passed he couldn't seem to get two things out of his mind. The first being he didn't know who owned the property, Gray hadn't told him, he simply said it didn't belong to Tanaka and left it at that. The second was that he had never heard from the hot tempered golden eyed Head Chef, Claude Faustus.

In a blink six years had passed and not once did he hear from the man. Sebastian sighed sadly, it was true he had left in the early hours of the morning and didn't tell him where he was, however there were far more than enough articles released about his restaurant to guide the chef to him.

"Perhaps, I really don't know a thing," he muttered as he placed the sign on the side walk and opened it. He sighed as he looked around the streets, roses hung out of boxes, the street was truly picturesque, and yet to him it was all so empty. The most important element wasn't with him. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked toward the corner, he always hoped to somehow see that familiar black jaguar turning around it. He hummed after a moment before returning to the kitchens.

He was living only part of his dream, what he really wanted was to spend life with the person he loved the most. Things just hadn't worked out that way. Sebastian slowly picked up a golden spoon and slip it into the cream which one of his apprentices was making. Oddly he had seen the spoon, fork and knife set in a shop it had a cat on the handle, rather than the glistening golden spider on Claude's but it was more than enough. Something that he could use to remember the man who fought for him silently, and loved him. The scarf he had taken with him had long since lost Claude's scent and warmth; it soon became just another scarf. Yet every day he wore it, a reminder of the man he loved, the man who never went after him.

He slipped the spoon between his lips and shook his head as he clicked his tongue, "Too heavy, when you make it, whip air into it so the cream becomes light," he advised. The young chef looked slightly confused, a pair of wide green eyes looked at him and he sighed, again he must have seemed like a god in the young man's eyes. He was about to explain when one of the waiters entered the kitchen. "Chef, there is a man asking a question about a cheese cake," the waiters said nervously. Sebastian rolled his eyes and groaned, he hated dealing with Americans who assumed every cheese cake was made using cream cheese. "Do you want me to take care of it? He's claiming to know the owner," he stammered.

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted quizzically, he didn't make many appearances on the floor. William and Ronald had found him, but only by sheer coincidence and the pair promised not to tell a soul. William had acquired a shop not far from his place and worked as a Wine and Spirit Dealer as well as Sommelier, Ronald assisted him. The pair had left _Noir_ after Sebastian had left. "I'm rather busy," he said slowly as he slipped the spoon on the counter. The waiter trailed after him and replied, "I know but he wanted to know if you made the roses and if the cheese cake used amaretto." The waiter was on Sebastian's heels, the Patissier sighed, "It does," he replied as he turned his attention to the cake he had been icing before.

"He also asked if there was still a drop of magic left, he wanted a taste before he left," said the Waiter in confusion. Sebastian paused and dropped the pastry bag he had been working with; chocolate icing fell from the bag and all over his fingers. "What did he say?" he asked quickly, his eyes were wide with curiosity and shock. "He said that the amaretto wasn't too bad last few times, but to not make it as strong as the first," replied the waiter. Sebastian sighed and washed his hands quickly. Part of him wondered who waited on the other side of the door. His heart was pounding, there had only been one person who had made such a remark and he hadn't seen him in years.

He pushed open the two wooden doors and paused, sitting near the window perched on a chair with a menu propped open and close to his face, the difficult customer. "You wished to speak to the owner?" he asked slowly, Tanaka had never told him who the owner was and he now regretted it. "Yes, I had a question, I was wondering if this shop carried cheese cake," he said swiftly.

Sebastian smiled a little and replied, "Yes, however it's not your typical cheese cake," he replied and looked at the customer skeptically. His eyes fell on the man's large hands that really looked like Claude's, the chef shook his head at the preposterous thought. If Claude hadn't come by now he wasn't going to. Resting on the table was an all too familiar volume, an old entry level Pastry textbook, it was identical to the ones used at _Le Cordon Bleu,_ and he shook his head and hummed. "Ricotta, cherries with a touch of amaretto, hopefully it's not too powerful this time," said a teasing voice.

Sebastian's eyes widened as he listened to the words leaving the stranger's lips. The lush and velvety voice tickled his ears causing the chef to slowly place his fingers on the edge of the menu and gently tip it down. Twinkling back at him was a pair of golden eyes, a warm smile curved his lips and he looked far more relaxed than before. His face was framed with black hair that had taken on a violet hue, his skin was lightly tanned and yet he still looked a little tired. With a square jaw and powerful shoulders was the one thing that seemed to complete the puzzle. "Yes, we have it," Sebastian replied with a wide smile. Claude placed the menu on the table and hummed, "Good, I would like a slice, with a black coffee," the man stated with ease. Sebastian nodded slowly, he had a difficult time processing that Claude was sitting before him. Before he could think twice his arms were around Claude's shoulders, the Patissier gave him a squeeze and whispered, "What took you so long?"

Claude returned the hug and replied, "Traffic, and I had to find you." There was a pause when Sebastian realized Claude didn't smell like cologne or perfume, he smelt of rosemary and thyme. His eyes searched his fingers for the rings that should have been there, placed by a very determined woman, they were absent. "All this time?" he asked slowly, "You've been looking for me?" Claude nodded and hummed as he looked at Sebastian with a grin. "Always," he said firmly and his eyes glided to the book sitting on the table. It had now become the one book Sebastian couldn't live without. His all time favorite.

Their eyes glided to the beautiful golden letters on the window, warmth was the one thing the script gave it and Sebastian smiled. It was time to amend the name of the shop, "_Le Corbeau et l' Araignée,"_Sebastian said warmly. Claude chuckled and replied, "What else would we call a shop owned by a Raven and a Spider?"

The atmosphere went cold as a glacial wind seemed to bellow through the shop, ushering the warmth away leaving only the fridge cold behind. The warmth of the fire had died and the soothing scents of coffee, strawberries, chocolate, lavender, vanilla and cream had long since vanished The spell of _Le Corbeau_ had been broken by the very chef who had woven it. The shop had regressed into a arctic place where it was impossible to find light, love and warmth, there was only pain and anger there.

The Patissier had jerked away from the broad chested man before him as though he had been burned with a hot pan. The raven haired Patissier stood out of arms reach from the golden eyed chef, his red eyes daring the man before him to come closer. Golden eyes were wide with confusion as the man shivered, clearly sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere. His red eyes never left the man before him, his eyes were hard and his gaze held the other man as though he were glaring at an enemy rather than former lover. His lover, the man he had desired for six years, and was about to cut free when he had heard of an engagement four years ago. Even if he didn't have a ring on, he wasn't going to let his sentimentality rule him. A sneer mangled the Patissier's lips as his red eyes narrowed dangerously, darkening significantly as he did so. This was his shop, and he'd be damned if Claude stepped in and expected to get anywhere with him without proving it.

All at once all the pain had returned, the pain of loss, and sadness of facing his battles on his own had returned full force. While he had initially been over the moon to see the man before him, now he was furious. "Sebastian?" asked the Chef before him, those golden eyes that had haunted Sebastian's dreams had returned. The Patissier stood tall and looked at him "No, we can't do that. You, you have to explain to me what the hell took you so long," Sebastian stated harshly. His words were filled with anger as he flicked his tongue harshly, the man before him flinched at his tone, causing the raven haired Patissier to grin at his small victory of causing the man whose absence had made him wreath in agony, pain.

"Just because you are back doesn't mean I will give in so easily," he stated, "You have to prove to me that you are here to stay," as he pointed to chef before him. "What?" asked the chef tentatively, his jaw had dropped, eyes widened and his fingers slid through his hair nervously. "Sebastian, I couldn't find you," the chef before him stammered. Only resulting in Sebastian snorting, internally he was in turmoil. Half of him wanted to believe the man he had fallen so hard for, while the other half wanted to disregard it entirely. His emotions were as turbulent as the sea, making him only more agitated. He hadn't lost control of this magnitude since the day he had been denied a Business License.

"Claude," growled Sebastian, "My food has always been the same, always. It's not difficult, especially with the awards I have won over the years." There was a chill in the room as Sebastian spoke, it was the truth, he had become renown for his flavor, his clients often had him cater some of the largest events in Manhattan, as well as the grand parties of the Hamptons. He was one of the best in the business and everyone on the East Coast knew it. The Patissier crossed his arms, his black jacket wrinkled as he did so, his white arms shone brightly against the black fabric; they were stronger, firmer and had a few more burns from working in the ovens.

Claude's eyes fell on his arms and his eyes widened, only now did the other chef see what six years of separation had caused. "I won't be swept away, I can't just let you back into my life," Sebastian stated, "I won't be put in that position again where I have to wait for you." The former Head Chef's eyes snapped up to a pair of cool garnets, confusion shone in those golden orbs as disbelief swept across his features. He shook his head and asked, "Then what do you want from me? I remembered you and I came here looking for you."

Sebastian closed his eyes as he bowed his head in an attempt to calm his already simmering temper, he was angry with both Claude and himself. He wanted desperately to have the shop with him, however, Sebastian also realized he didn't want to be the old version of himself. He was different now, he had learned how to fight, and how to live on his own. It had taken six painful years to realize that he could yearn for Claude all he wanted but the man wouldn't return to his side. Yet, now there he was, he wanted to trust him, to have a shop with him, but he couldn't, that version of him had died the first year he was in Manhattan. "Wonderful, you're six years too late. I've had enough and I'm not going back," he stated, "I have a life here."

"I don't want to take you back to London, I'm here to stay," said Claude quickly as he stood up and dropped his menu on the table. He stood at his full height, Claude had always been rather imposing at his full height, he could remember all the times he wondered just how the chef had become so tall. Even in the kitchen he towered over Sebastian, with his sheer height alone he could keep the chefs in line, let alone his tone and rapid temper.

Sebastian squared his shoulders, his features were steeled and he looked colder than he ever had. He wasn't going to allow his resolve to crumble. "Prove it. Prove to me that you want me. I waited years for you, even when I lost hope, there was a part of me waiting for you. Now show me you want me as much as I want you," challenged the raven daringly. Claude's jaw dropped as he stared at the Patissier, Sebastian knew he was being harsh and his show of affection toward the chef when he had walked in and the suggestion of changing the name of the restaurant was genuine. However, he also wanted to prove to more than just Claude he didn't need a protector, he wanted and needed a partner and lover.

The air was tense and he could tell his customers were rattled by his tone, none of them were expecting Sebastian to quickly switch to the defensive, even with the man he loved. He had managed to fight for six years to keep his resultant a float, through the first reviews, the cut throat competition and even the rumor circulating about him. The challenges had raised the standards of his work and Sebastian found himself battling to breathe in the city. Even when he was terrified of his restaurant buckling under he had pulled himself out of it. Hours of work in the kitchen, slaving away to forge a name of perfection and skill.

Claude was staring at Sebastian dumbly and he asked, "How?" Sebastian smirked as he leaned on the table behind him, he tilted his head to the side and replied, "You have to figure it out." Even if it had been six years he wasn't going to go easy on the chef, quite the opposite actually. Sebastian watched keenly as the other chef shifted on his feet and looked at his customers wearily, the Patissier had a feeling that they were glaring at Claude. "I see," he said slowly as he slipped his hands into his pockets, "I guess I'll see you later, I have to head back to my flat," he said after a moment.

The fact that Claude had purchased an apartment in the city didn't surprise him, he did have a great deal of money, he only wondered just how long he would stay. Even though the ring was absent from his finger, and he looked genuinely hurt by his demands, the raven haired Patissier knew this was the only way he would be able to show Claude he was worth the effort and wasn't a fragile as he used to be. He watched in silence as Claude left the cozy shop, sweeping all of the warmth of Sebastian's body with him.

He knew one day Claude would walk through the door but he never anticipated it to occur this way. The Patissier rubbed his temples with his fingers, he could feel a migraine coming and knew all too well he was pushing himself too hard. The issue was there was a gala that evening and he was pressed for time as it was. Sebastian hummed as he rolled his shoulders and then clapped his hands as though he were removing excess flour from them. He still had a number of elements to put on the cake for the Charity Gala that evening, it had to be spectacular and he wasn't even finished with the base icing, he still had sugar work to do.

"So much to do, so little time to do it," he mumbled as he pushed the doors of the kitchen open. He was comfortable in the back, it was his domain, and his alone. Even if he wanted to share this space with Claude he didn't want to just allow him in, he didn't want a relationship where Claude would protect him from the evils of the world, he could fight now and he wanted to prove it. Tonight's cake was going to be extravagant, "All hands on deck! I'm starting the sugar pulling!" he shouted over the roar of the mixers and ovens. A unanimous, "Yes Chef!" was his reply.

He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out several bags of dye, only to see a spider hanging in the pantry. Sebastian paused and looked at the arachnid, "Fucking spider," he hissed before slamming the door and marching toward the stove, all he could hope for was somehow the images of the cake to make it online and Claude to see it. "I'm not going to give into him," he grumbled as he measured out the sugar.

~~xXx~~

Galas, parties, celebrations, all of which are major events where people are able to social network, forge new relationships and enjoy life. Events of high caliber where plates cost nearly $600 to dine and sipping Champagne, that for some would send the prospective buyer into a case of sticker-shock. With sparkling lights, glittering gowns and attendants dressed to impress as they wrote checks in hopes of aiding a group tackle the growing issue of starving children, everything was ridding on the glamour of the event. Naturally there are two things necessary to pull off a spectacle of large proportion, especially in the lively city of Manhattan and at a Charity event, food – only to be prepared by the finest New York has to offer – and naturally wine. The hotel was bustling with florists, furniture movers, musicians, decorators, the design coordinator, a few chefs and even a lighting technician who looked as though he were going to have heart palpitations.

The Charity Gala had sent approximately 350 invitations, all of them had been returned plus a few last minute additions from influential patrons, the event had exploded to 400. Since this meant accommodating 50 more guests, the hotel was in a mild panic as they attempted to wrestle up furniture, and various other resources required for a successful Gala.

Yet, through all the chaos two people stood firm, side by side as though they could take on the world. Looking over the floor with a pair of gleaming green eyes and ash black hair that had been parted to the side was the tall figure of one of New York's finest Sommeliers. The man's eyes flickered down to his watch; this event – like many others- was really just another walk in the park. He slipped his glasses off his nose and quickly pulled out a handkerchief before cleaning the lenses. It honestly amazed him at the amount of panic that surrounded the fact that the anticipated number of guests had increased.

Standing at his side was shorter young man with vibrant green eyes, blonde hair that was rather long and dyed black in the back; he was in a pair of jeans with a plaid shirt and black vest. He was balancing a tablet in one arm and twirling the stylus in the other, "Alright, I had eight more case of the Blanc brought and two more of the Spanish," the blonde stated simply before looking at the man beside him, "Anything else Will?" William smiled and looked over at the man before draping an arm over his shoulder, "Nope, just a glassware inspection," he stated as he began walking across the room.

This wasn't his first Gala and he was more than happy to be back in his element. The key to charity events was to select a wine which would accent the dish and not be too flamboyant; it had to fall within the price range of not being cheap but not expensive. Unlike most events, Charities were tricky, and everything was judged harshly by sponsors. If it was too expensive the potential patrons would wonder where the money was being spent, too cheap and they would wonder if the host thought so little of them. This meant he had to select bottles which were in the middle range, but still high quality. A challenge for even the most seasoned Sommelier. However, he was confident that his selections were perfect.

William slipped his glasses further up his nose, he could smell the fragrant flowers as they walked by, roses, lilies, and grassy notes. The scent of lemons, leather, oak and a hint of oranges caressed his nose. Unlike most a Sommelier's sense of smell was highly attuned, it was one of the many attributes which separated a good one from the best. A lot had changed since he had moved into Enigma six years, ago for starters Ronald embraced his background as the son of a Winery owner and proved to be essential in a number of contracts.

"This is going to be one hell of a party," marveled the young man trailing him, William chuckled, if there was one thing New Yorkers knew how to do it was throw a party. "I suppose, my main concern is that the bottles arrive safely and that my pairings don't get mixed up by the servers," he commented. So far, the wait staff was no where near the same caliber as that of Noir, he was beginning to miss the professional staff at the Phantomhive restaurant. Once Claude Faustus, the Head Chef, had left Noir, everything seemed to fall apart. They simply couldn't find another chef to replace him, the food had been going down hill since Sebastian flew away though, causing the clientele to plummet.

He could still remember the day Black walked in, looked at the plates, only to shake his head and walk back out. Not even the Undertaker would try the food, and that was an insult if he had ever heard one. While Ash had stayed on to assist in the kitchen as the replacement Patissier, his dishes weren't the same as Sebastian's, people had become so accustomed to the gusto the Patissier's dishes had. Ash was the kind of Patissier who was into sugar, pretty trinkets and playful ideas. Sebastian was the opposite, he loved tart flavors, over traditionally sweet things, the raven was a fan of layers, complex flavors, sophisticated presentations and elegant executions, while Ash was good, and many considered Sebastian to be great. Claude's food had fallen and he was lost without the raven haired patissier.

Once the Sommelier and former Head Waiter had left Noir, they never heard from Claude again. The Head Chef left, which had been announced in the papers, and then vanished. It was as though he were searching for something he held dear. William sighed as he drew himself out of his unwanted journey down memory lane. Ronald was beside him as the Sommelier looked at the glasses, "Alright, they are here, now to make sure the bottles come in safely," he stated. Ronald turned his tablet on and quickly opened an program and took a look at the timetable, "ETA in ten," he said simply. William nodded as he began to walk toward the loading dock in the back of the hotel.

"Excellent right on time," he commented as he opened the doors to the back, Ronald was quick to follow and nodded, "Yup, usually they're late." William had grown accustomed to trucks being late thanks to traffic, after all it was New York and things tended to happen in the city. The loading dock was quiet as William stood awaiting the arrival of the van with his wine on it. William glanced over at the blonde, he knew Ronald had given up a great deal for him, and oddly didn't seem to mind. He had thrown away his job, his flat and even his motorcycle to life in the city with him. Usually he was a ball of energy, bounding from place to place with a gleam in his eyes, and yet recently he had become distant.

The Sommelier leaned against the cool concrete wall of the building and examined Ronald. He was pale and his eyes held less of a spark than they once had, in London they had been full of life and yet here in New York they were tired and somehow seemed to have aged. His posture was slightly slumped and William could see bags forming under the young man's eyes. "Ronald?" he asked as he watched the young man rub his eyes, clearly he hadn't been sleeping. Ronald didn't respond on making William worry even more. "Ronny?" he called affectionately, the young man snapped to attention and looked at the Sommelier. "Sorry?" he asked his brows knitting as he did so and expression of confusion appeared.

"Are you okay?" asked William tenderly as he pushed himself away from the building, the party wasn't stressful for him, as a Sommelier he was accustomed to having to deal with poorly trained staff and rather unintelligent bartenders, even the change in the number of guests was common for him. "Yeah, just thinking about them," said Ronald softly, his voice was as low as a whisper and it seemed to drift into the shadows. William was still as he looked at the young man before him, Claude and Sebastian were close friends and more than anything he wanted to see them succeed, he had been one of the first to realize the attraction and desired more than anything to see them both happy.

William stood before the young man and gently cupped Ronald's cheek, it was soft and warm under his fingers, golden locks caressed the back of his hand and he felt the flutter of Ronald's eye lashes as he opened his eyes and stared back at him with watery green eyes. "I know, I think about them too," he said softly. A tear slipped free of Ronald's eyes and William swept away the droplet with his thumb, "I, Will I've done something," he began, his voice shaking. The Sommelier stood patiently waiting only for the truck to arrive and for him to pull back. "Ronald?" he asked again as the blond pulled his tablet and looked at the log. "Nothing, let's just get these inside," he stated.

Two men jump out of the van from his shop, Thomas and Kyle, he had hired them three years ago, they were the most careful pair he had met. One of the greatest fears of a Sommelier was something called Bottle Shock. Bottle shock is a condition in which the wine loses character due to being sloshed around in the bottles, it is a rather unfortunate issue that is often caused during transport. Even if it is a short distance the wine must be transported as carefully as possible, many drivers considered it akin to driving a new born home, from the hospital, only rather than a baby they would have to deal with William tanning their hides.

Thomas and Kyle were professional from day one, and to this day he had no idea how they learned of the position, he had never advertised it, they were simply standing in his shop one day offering him their services. He watched the pair of muscular men clad in black lifting the crates out of the truck with ease and caring them inside without breaking a sweat. He followed the pair inside and looked over at Ronald who was beside him, "Ronny, I can't help if you don't talk to me," he stated.

Ronald shook his head and replied stiffly, "Later, we have to finish this, since we are both being asked to stay," he didn't look up from the screen. The Sommelier huffed, he had forgotten that for some reason they had been added to the guest list. He really didn't understand why, they weren't making a ton of money and Ronald hadn't spoken to his father since he left the States nine years ago. In fact, William was certain; Howard didn't even know his own son was on the same continent as he was. Kyle and Thomas placed the creates on the floor beside the table which had been reserved for exclusive use by himself and Ronald. Yet, for some reason there was a box resting on the table. "Honestly, our shop's name is on the card reserving this table, you'd think they could read," hissed William with irritation.

They had an hour before the party would begin, a gasp echoed in his ears and he turned to look at Ronald. "What?" he asked as Ronald reached out and touched a box which had been left on the table. It was white and rather large, "Will, look," he whispered as he pulled it closer, on the top of it was a note addressed to them both. William watched Ronald handle the envelope gingerly, the envelope was a radiant white and the paper was thick, both their names were written in an all too familiar shade of midnight blue ink. The sound of paper tearing filled the air as Ronald slipped his finger under the lip of the envelope. With ease the card was plucked from the confined of the envelope.

_Masks allow us to be what we are not, and at the same time show what we are. Look for the truth in a sea of lies._

_VP_

William and Ronald looked at one another, they thought it was over, and yet the cards had returned, something hadn't worked, either that or the game had never ended. William slowly opened the lid of the box and stared at the pair of black and silver half masks, they were covered in silver curls but the edges were jagged. "The Gala is a Masque?" asked Ronald as he gently lifted one of them up, it was light and well made. William pulled the other one from it's confines of the box and ran his fingers over it, the inside was smooth and he quickly realized they were made of papier-mâché. "Apparently, New York hasn't seen one in years," he said slowly. The last time he had seen a Masque was at the elaborate castle of Lucius Faustus, it was his last time at the castle and the billion heir was attempting to get him to agree to staying.

"Wow, that's cool, at least they work with out tuxes," replied Ronald, there was suddenly an eagerness in his voice, it was as though the prospect of hiding behind a mask brought him comfort. Then again it was a welcome change, it would allow for William to float freely through the group since all the wait staff had been given white masks. Now the question was just what VP was after. He knew VP wasn't Vincent Phantomhive, he had discovered that the day he had seen the man's handwriting as well as the confusion on the nobleman's face when the business cards were pulled after the challenge. William smiled a little, as he held the mask up to the light, what ever the game was he knew one thing, it wasn't over.

He placed the mask on the table and was about to take the lids off the creates when he heard his mobile ring. "Shoot, Ronny can you take care of this?" he asked as he began searching for the irritating producer of sound. Ronald nodded as William held the device to his ear, "Hello?" he asked.

"William, he's back, Claude's here in New York," stammered the voice of a flustered and upset Patissier. William paled and stared wide eyed at the box on the table, "What happened?" he asked after a moment, his eyes locked on the note, which Ronald had thrown onto the table. "He wants back in my life, but I can't just let him, I finally can stand alone," Sebastian said quickly. William looked over at Ronald who was staring at him quizzically, the Sommelier mouthed Sebastian's name to the man making him even more alert. His eyes gravitated toward the card on the table as well.

The Sommelier knew this wasn't a coincidence but why the game had started again after slumbering for six years was beyond him. It was as though the players were waiting for all their pieces to get into position. "Sebastian, I understand you aren't the same man and you have mixed feelings but you can't push him away, he was a mess when you left," William said after a moment. He didn't want to defend all of Claude's actions, especially after Claude had asked to date Victoria and for a while had played the dutiful son, despite Lucius' assurances that he didn't have to. "William, I can't do this, I just," the patissier paused and drew a deep breath, "I just got my life in order."

William understood this all too well, he had watched the Patissier fight alone for years and knew that this new found strength of his wasn't easy for him to come by. "Sebastian, let's meet for breakfast tomorrow," offered the Sommelier he needed to find out what was going on before he spoke to Sebastian. "That works for me, I have to go, I'm expected in a few minutes with the cake and my intern has nearly broken the petals on the roses," he stated. William listened to the line die with a hint of finality and looked at Ronald, "Sebastian will be here soon," he said simply as the blonde looked through the contents of the crates.

~~xXx~~

Pain, pure pain seared through Claude's veins. It felt as though he were being stabbed over and over again with knives, Sebastian had embraced him, only to turn him away once more. Everything burned, he had spent a year at Noir, hoping Sebastian would return, only to realize the Patissier would never fly back. It had been agony waking every morning knowing that the man he loved had left him because he didn't remember him. It was strange, for those months he lived in a dream, he couldn't shout or break free, he was forced to watch Sebastian suffer.

Some would have considered this to be divine retribution, Claude considered it purgatory. In an attempt to forget Sebastian he had decided to try and forge a relationship with Victoria, the woman his father suggested he date previously before finding Sebastian worthy of him. Everything about her felt awkward, wrong in so many ways. She was beautiful, polite and intelligent, but not as creative, caring or brave as Sebastian. "My raven won't take me back," he mumbled as he walked up the steps of his building. He had purchased a penthouse on the Upper Eastside. It was larger than his place in London, but lacked all the personal touches, he was still waiting on his fireplace mantle to be brought out of storage.

His keys jingled as he opened the door and began to walk through the building toward the lift. Claude smiled sadly, he left _Noir_ in search of his raven, and muse who seemed to have fled as soon as Sebastian did. Those years were the darkest, the days blended together and food had lost taste, to the point that even his own cooking lacked flavor. Victoria had pushed for an engagement and Claude nearly went through with it, until he realized it was her way of telling him he was still in love with another person. He left Victoria in London, oddly his father didn't disagree, he simply wished for Claude to be happy.

As a result he left for France, hoping that his raven had simply flown home. France was the first place he had met Sebastian and the Patissier was from the nation, so he first tried Sebastian's home town and then went to search Paris. Yet, no matter how he searched the rose tinted city, which for him was painfully gray, he couldn't find the chef, just when he was going to call Ronald and William he had learned of their move to New York. For months he debated on seeing the Sommelier, while he was happy William could finally be his own man, he was saddened by the fact that he had his lover. It was pathetic to feel jealous of Ronald but he couldn't help it.

The lift rang to alert him of his arrival to his floor and Claude pushed himself away from the wall he had leaning on, it was really the only thing holding him up. Everything hurt, his soul even, as he trudged into his apartment, Sebastian had ripped his heart out and oddly he couldn't blame him, he had been absent for six years. After debating Claude finally bought a ticket and decided to visit them, he figured William would open a bottle and console him like he always did in Paris.

Oddly it wasn't Enigma he went to first, he had intended to go there and did stop before it to gaze inside only to hear someone talking about the new Patisserie, _Le Corbeau_. At that moment Claude's heart swelled with hope, there was only one person he knew that would name his shop "The Raven" and decided to allow himself just a little hope. As he walked down the street that was when he saw him, Sebastian, putting out a sign with a list of specials on the side walk. His garnet eyes held a spark as a gust of wind blew his black hair, it was longer than he remembered, the man must have decided to grow it out. It was strange though, his long hair didn't make him look feminine, it simply made him look more like a noble. He was still thin, but his skin was slightly tanner. He was smiling warmly as a Roadster rolled by. It was then Claude knew he had to see the man.

The chef collapsed on the sofa and groaned, he hadn't expected the cold treatment he had received from Sebastian. It was glacial and what hurt more was the fact that he seemed to be doing fine without him, all the while Claude was a wreck. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "I was a fool to think he would wait," he said sadly. He was chasing shadows, Sebastian was stronger than he was before, so strong that he hadn't recognized the man he was speaking to. He looked like Sebastian, and smelt like him, but his tone and body language said other wise. He was stronger, confident and a force of creativity to be reckoned with. "This must be what it feels like to be a companionless shadow," he mused.

~~xXx~~

The lights of New York sparkled as the wealthy came out, dressed in dashing tuxedos, elegant gowns and donning masks, they marched to one destination the Charity event of the year. It was a magnificent spectacle, for many it was a chance to break away from convention and not focus on names but more of the event it's self, since the masks obscured the wearer's perception of just whom might be under it. It was magic what simply putting on a mask and wrapping an individual in a velvet cloak could do. It was as though Venetians decided to vacate Florence for a night and come to New York for a party. The elite were bustling to slip into the room, it was one of the hottest parties of the year, while the air was nippy oddly the guests took the meaning of carnival to a new level as woman wore backless dresses.

Each of them wearing masks, shielding prying eyes from their identity, the atmosphere was energized and William stared at the crowd entering the building. He had only felt this fervor once before in his life, his first encounter with the Hamptons. William shook his head, the memory of meeting Lucius Fasutus at what he considered a small event was still fresh. He could remember the massive pearl white castle with elegant gardens and the air of sophistication around the man, he smiled and looked at Ronald. "You know the last time I was able to actually attend the party I was in the Hamptons, I've always been the one working behind the scenes setting up the party," he remarked as he wrapped his arm around Ronald's waist.

Ronald was smiling as he looked over at William, he was dressed to impress in a black tuxedo with a silver vest and silver bow tie. His blond hair had been styled with a styling cream so it was a little fuller and jagged. He was beaming and somehow looked more alive at that moment than he had in months. William smiled warmly as he watched his lover sweep across the carpet, it had been far too long since they actually attended the event. Usually a Sommelier spent most of their time insuring the bottles were opened properly, the temperatures were correct and each bottle had time to breathe, on top of checking stock and insuring that only the highest quality of wine reached the table.

They continued through the foyer, the marble was polished to the point it was possible to see your reflection in it, even the staff standing at attention receiving coats and cloaks were wearing white half masks. Each wearing polite smiles and in uniform, the foyer was covered in flowers with silk banners hanging. There was something familiar about this set up, as he walked through the warm golden foyer. "Wow, we look good," purred Ronald. William turned to see Ronald looking at them in one of the long mirrors in the hallway.

Staring back at them were two men in jet black tuxedos, with black and silver masks, William had gone through the trouble of wearing contacts just for the occasion. He stared at his own reflection, he had left his hair messy, rather than taming it with his typical staying products. He had added black eye make up around his eyes to complete the illusion, much like Ronald had. He selected a silver waist coat and paired it with a silver ascot. While the looks were similar he could still tell that two very different people existed under them. "Come on, let's see what this party's got, I heard the who's who got invited," Ronald gushed as he grabbed William's arm and began dragging him into the main ball room.

As they drew closer William could hear the privet chamber group tuning as well and the DJ checking his equipment. He slowly pushed open the doors and was greeted with a world of pure magic, silks hung from the ceiling, flowers displayed every where, there were lanterns resting on tables, the gardens which existed off to the side were lit and looked as though thousands of fire flies had become lost in the bushes. Colorful strobes moved through the darkness of the hotel and he stared openly at the tables.

No expense had been stared as the guests ogled at the spread on the tables, it must have cost a small fortune. "Whoa, what's the event for again?" asked Ronald nervously as he watched a woman draped from head to foot in satin and lace, she winked at them as she fluttered by, the back of her dress was completely see through and she left the scent of orchids in her wake. "To combat Children's Hunger," he replied tensely, it looked more like an extravaganza.

The animals were out, yet that didn't explain all the security. As they moved through the hotel he noticed the addition of a security team dressed in black, they were massive and were clearly ex-military. Each of them equip with ear wicks, guns and a glare that could freeze hell over. He watched as everyone filed into the room, there was a hush as a figure stepped onto the stage. Standing before them in a smashing tuxedo with a plum and gold half mask with a plum ascot and waistcoat was the host. He was wearing black satin gloves and beaming with delight. He held the microphone in his hands loosely, a pair of unnerving gold eyes were behind the mask, he had black hair with a hint of purple to it. "No," whispered William in shock, his eyes grew wider, there were two people on earth with that eye color.

"Welcome to our little party! Tonight we will be collecting donations to combat children's hunger," he stated, his lush voice rung in the room like a bell, "I'm glad you could come to our get together, and we will start the auction in a moment." There was a cheer as the music blared and guests took their seats. William stared at the place on the stage the man had stood and attempted to figure out just why he had been sent. "Will?" asked the blond beside him.

The Sommelier looked over at Ronald, he couldn't seem to find his words, "Ah Mister Spears and Mister Knox, I'm so glad you could join us," purred an all too familiar voice. The pair spun around to see a smiling man behind them. "I'm ashamed to admit I didn't add you until I saw you both here with the wines, I wasn't sure if you two were really the Spears and Knox I know," he said with a smile. Realization sparked in Ronald's eyes as he gasped, "Lucius?" Only making the man's grin wider, he nodded and said with ease, "Busted. I take it you received one too?" he asked as he pulled out a white card with VP on the front from his Brest pocket.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**__ Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapters, as well as making the jump from Book 1 to Book 2. I hope you guys enjoy Lucius' little Party and Sebastian's "Little" surprise. It's going to impress. _

**_THIS IS DIFFERENT FROM THE ORIGINAL CHAPTER. Thank you Stormie Stories for pointing out the errors. I took the chance to adjust a few areas as well._**

* * *

**Chapter 2: A "Little" Cake**

Lucius pulled the white card out of his Breast pocket and held it out to the pair before him. Ronald and William looked at the card curiously before the Sommelier sighed as he took it from the man. His eyes swept over the card slowly, taking in every detail. William tilted the card and held it at an angle to see if there was anything different. He could still remember the day Ronald had discovered by accident that there was more on the cards, all it took was a little coffee and a magnifier, a very powerful one. Sprawled across the back in a familiar hand was two lines.

"_The key to the future is in young minds, put food in their open palms and feed them, for they are the key. Hold a Masque."_

"A Masque?" he asked curiously after a moment before flipping it over and looking at the letters on the middle of the card once more. This time they didn't look as though they had micro printing and he hummed, it was simply another business card. It was odd, the lines on the back weren't from a poem or a riddle really, they were straightforward but clever. William flipped it between his fingers before passing it to Ronald, who also inspected it. Once finished the card was returned to Lucius, with the flick of the blonde's wrist.

The three looked at one another before William replied, "Yes, and now we know you didn't send them," he said with a sigh before sagging slightly. The white business card glowed in the lights as Lucius flicked his fingers and slipped the card back into his jacket pocket. The Host chuckled and shook his head, "Of course I didn't. I may be a brilliant CEO, but this little game is far too well planed to be mine. I appreciate the gesture of course," he purred. Even after all the previous events Lucius was still quite the businessman, he was as tall as Claude and spoke with a similar drawl. His charm was enough to enchant any woman, and manipulation was child's play to him. The difference between Lucius and his son was his hair, it wasn't as dark as Claude's, and his voice wasn't as deep, it was lighter and had a certain ring to it.

Now they knew who they had to meet, the question was why. "I'm looking forward to your selection of wine, is Fox Legacy among them?" he asked curiously as he looked at Ronald. The blond nodded, and chuckled, "Of course, how could we not include it? We have a Château Montelena Chardonnay as well," he stated. William smiled, he was all too happy that he had decided to slip a few bottles of Chateau Montelena in the menu, as well as Fox Legacy. "Wonderful," he chimed with joy,

William could still remember the day Lucius was criticizing him for wasting his talents. Clearly he had become more than a hacker to this man, he was officially a Sommelier. A smile curled William's lips, he was happy that he had managed to climb his way out of the dark and into a respectable career.

Lucius moved out of the way, and gestured to the table toward the front, "Please," he said with a smirk. William and Ronald looked at one another; he must have shuffled people around to fit them at his own table. "I couldn't have you sit with people you didn't know, now could I?" he asked as he guided them to the table. His movements were smooth as he slipped a hand into his pockets and guided the newly appointed VIPs to his table. William nodded in appreciation. He was quick to notice that they had been seated close to Lucius, as though he were telling others to not bother them. It was strange, years ago he wouldn't have typically been allowed into this man's inner circles and yet, now it seemed to be a basic principle.

William pulled out Ronald's chair and waited for the young man to sit before doing so himself. "How's your shop?" asked Lucius curiously, his golden yellow eyes were locked on them as though they were going to tell him life's secrets. A spark of appreciation flared in William's chest. Years ago the man wouldn't have shown interest in his humble endeavor, now here he was inquiring about it, as though it were an important business venture. "Very well, thank you. I take it business for you is prosperous," commented William.

The Host chuckled as he shifted in his chair slightly, "Of course, I was honestly pleased that the Planner had gotten you two to select the wines. I was terrified of having someone else do it," he mused, there was a ring of truth in his words as he said them. William suddenly realized the man would be more honest behind a mask tonight than he would be without it. "I'm glad, we had fun," said Ronald warmly, his tone lifted and he sounded far livelier than he had in months.

"Well that's good to hear, I would be concerned if you two didn't. I know you are both rather passionate about your work," Lucius replied before lifting a glass of Chardonnay to his lips.

William smiled warmly and asked, "How's business?" He could tell Lucius was prospering and he had a feeling Vincent was now one of his clients. Vincent Phantomhive had more money than he knew what to do with it. The English Lord was known for spending massive amounts, and investing worldwide. In reality, he couldn't seem to spend it fast enough.

Lucius hummed as he placed the glass back on the table gently, the Sommelier smiled a little more as he did so, he hated it when people treated wine roughly. "Rather well," he replied after a moment, "We are going to expand in Berlin and I might add a branch to the West Coast, I was thinking Seattle. Claude suggested Vancouver, however, I'm not sure about that," he stated.

Lucius sighed and crossed his arms, even from behind the mask it was possible to tell he was perplexed, "Lucius?" asked Ronald curiously. The CEO looked at the glass of Chardonnay thoughtfully; he shifted once more, and crossed his arms as he did so. Something was very wrong, Lucius never fidgeted. He was the type of man who sat chillingly still and didn't flinch at the mention of spending. "Claude's been acting strange, I'm concerned," he said softly, so softly that William was quite sure they were the only ones in the room who could hear him. There was a hint of pure concern in Lucius voice as he spoke. William's eyes widened as he watched the powerful and fearless CEO turn into a concerned father.

"How so?" asked Ronald after a moment, William glared at the blonde who simply shrugged. He would have never asked such a personal question. It didn't seem fair to pester a father when clearly he wasn't comfortable.

Lucius looked at Ronald and smiled sadly, "After remembering Sebastian things went downhill, the Patissier had already left and he was trying to pick himself up," replied the CEO. Lucius picked up the glass and moved it closer to him, he ran his finger around the rim causing the glass to ring as he did so. "He tried dating Victoria, thinking that I wanted him to marry, I had hinted at it, but I didn't mean her," he began, "I was hoping he would see it, that he needed Sebastian. He didn't, and slowly my son began to vanish."

Ronald looked alarmed by the statement, yet waited patiently. This was something Lucius would have to say at his own pace. "He stopped going out, he stopped cooking his food and eventually stopped eating. He wasn't sleeping for a while," Lucius looked at William, his eyes were filled with pain, "He's eating now, but only enough to get by. I've never seen anything like that." William's heart constricted, it didn't matter just what the person was like, no one deserved to watch the people they loved become so, empty.

It was too cruel to watch someone as strong as Claude slowly regress, he looked over to the young blonde beside him, and noticed his discomfort. William slipped his hand across the table and gathered Ronald's hand in his, his thumb swept over the back, before rubbing soothing circles into it as he did so. "I'm concerned," he whispered. William hung his head for a moment, he didn't know what to do, Ronald had been the one to walk that road, not him. Or at least, he hadn't watched the one he loved slip away. He was familiar with the guilt of not remembering, and the sadness of realizing he had pushed the only man he loved away.

Yet, he didn't know what it was like to be alone. The Sommelier began to wonder how much of Claude's pain was the fact that Sebastian had flown, or the fact he couldn't catch the chef. He could remember how dazed Claude looked in the kitchen his first few days back as himself. He looked truly lost without the Patissier. He was cold and soulless once more, broken. All the warmth and magic of the kitchen had vanished, leaving it barren like it had once been.

"What can you tell me of the chef at _Le Corbeau_?" he asked curiously, "You two are on the same street." Green eyes snapped up as Lucius said this and he smiled a little. Of all places he asked about, he asked about the place owned by the man causing Claude so much pain. Ronald looked nervous before a moment before smiling, there was a hint of humor in this, the fact that Lucius didn't even know the owner was more than enough to surprise him.

Ronald and William smiled as they both attempted to suppress chuckles, "What?" asked Lucius in confusion, his eyes narrowed behind the mask slightly. "You know him," Ronald teased. Lucius' lips parted as he shook his head and replied, "No I do not."

William snorted and replied, "You do, in fact you know him as well as we do." Lucius leaned back in his chair even with a mask on it was evident that he was confused. Both Claude and Lucius had the habit of leaning back and attempting to look at something from another angle when they found something to be confusing.

"Just wait for the cake," said William simply.

~~xXx~~

The kitchen was burning as various chefs attempted to keep up with the ever growing demands of the Patissier. "HOT BEHIND!" shouted a young man as he dashed toward his work station. The scent of berried hung in the air, as did chocolate and oranges. The sound of knives hitting wooden boards echoed through the space, as did the scream of electric mixers. There was a creak of a rolling pin not too far and a cloud of flour as it was being applied to the boar and swept off the hands of several chefs. The once clear counters were covered in fondant, sugar, batter, flour and various other elements of the cake. The silver appliances had a light dusting of flour on them, and he could hear the chatter of chefs as they attempted to get every element done.

Sebastian stirred the pot of molten sugar with a touch of dye and food coloring slowly, it were as though he was stirring a potion rather than a pot of sugar. Once the die had tinted the batch he looked at the vibrant red mixture and grinned. "I need those bases done!" he commanded as he picked the pot up and carried it over toward his table. He had to make this cake grand, daring and honestly show who he was since Claude was long gone. He was tired of people just seeing him as the delicate chef from London. He was his own man now, a daring Patissier who was about to make his dreams reality.

He pulled the pot of sugar from the heat and turned his attention to his bench. "I just finished the application of the base, Kit's got the windows," called Sophie. Sebastian pulled a large rectangular tan mat with an orange border, the words Splat Mat were written across the bottom in Black. The Patissier clicked his tongue as he pulled a blue blow torch from under the bench. Several younger chefs froze and stared at him with wide eyes as though he were insane. Sebastian sighed and shook his head, it was the same look he got when he first proposed the design. Then again it was one of the crazier designs.

Sebastian hummed as he walked back over to the stove, "Good. Mount the doors, and check the fondant for the base," he called as he picked up the large silver pot and tipping it over on the mat.

"YES CHEF!" they shouted in unison.

The sugar was stuck in the pot and he groaned, it was one of the few things he hated working in sugar for one reason, it always got stuck in the pot. "No matter how much vinegar I add," he moaned before putting the pot down for a moment. The Patissier slipped into a pair of white latex gloves, he had a few hours, just long enough to assemble and make fresh roses. He slipped his hands into the hot and began pulling it out of the massive pot in jagged pieces. One by one he stacked the glossy jaded slabs of sugar that looked more like broken glass on the mat.

Sebastian could remember just when he had gotten that call, he had been asked to make an exceptional cake, something stunning that screamed New York. After the phone call he had sat in his office and though for a moment before noticing a calendar with a picture on it. He was inspired instantly and went to sketching. Within twenty minutes the cake was sketched, and had it approved in less than an hour, thanks to the power of Facebook. The Party Planner had told him he was insane with how tall he wanted the cake, but he knew he could do it.

He began rolling the sugar out on the mat, it was relatively soft to the touch like molten glass, only cooler and far sticker. He could feel how sticky it was through his gloves as he continued to roll it out, working each shard into it as he did so, smoothing the sides to make it a single bright red rod.

Sebastian could feel the eyes of his protégés, usually he'd kick them out, since anything made of pulled sugar had a habit of shattering if it were jostled or dropped. He picked up the red rod and began to ball it up, the trick to pulled sugar was stretching it.

He grabbed the ends and began pulling it apart, his mind wandered as he did so. He had very little time left and he could see them assembling the cake, the windows were going on and he had made the cap of it out of a combination of cake and pulled sugar, it was a perfect replica of the building's lightning rod at night. The sugar turned into a soft and supple ball of pearly putty, he smiled as he played with it between his fingers, it was a little more resistant but the appearance and texture were perfect.

Sebastian placed the wad down and looked up to see Sophie standing on the other side of the table, the doors were on as were the windows. "Light the torch for me," he said softly, he watched her nod and do so, as he tugged at the ball he was now holding on the mat. A small piece broke off between his fingers, he gently rolled the scarlet red sugar into a small bulb that was hollow in the middle before placing it off to the side. Once finished with the center he began slowly pulling the ball apart, shaping the pieces between his fingers as he did so until they resembled petals. A smile curled his lips, he loved crafting things out of sugar - even if it always got stuck in the pot.

"What's left?" he asked Sophie, he didn't bother shooing her away, she was far too interested in his work for him to do so. He held each petal over the flame to get it to soften just a touch before slowly attaching it to the center bud. If he held the small petal over the flame too long it would melt and simply burn him, not long enough and he couldn't assemble the rose, it was all about timing. Sebastian gently layer the heated end against the bug and watched it attach before continuing the process, he worked slowly, rotating the now budding rose between his fingers as he did so. "Nothing, just the sugar and spraying," she stated.

Sebastian nodded as he placed the first rose off to the side, "That has to cool before you put it on," he remarked as he began making another. Slowly but surely each scarlet red rose was crafted, sculpted with care and ease by the mast himself. One by one they were made and added to the cake in the areas he had specified on the design. "Check on the masks, I finished the feathers a while ago, they should be cool by now," he directed as he finished the second to last massive red rose.

He watched the young brunette with brown eyes vanished from his peripheral vision as he placed the rose on the mat. Sophie was one of 40 applicants he had for the position. Apparently after his shop had gotten a name for itself he had become one of the most sought after teachers in the industry.

A sigh escaped the Patissier as he looked at the base, if someone had told him years ago he would be sculpting cakes in such a way and crafting dreams in his kitchen, he would have told them they were insane. Yet here he was, with sugar roses in hand and a beautiful towering cake just a few paces away, waiting for him to finish.

After finishing the last rose, he cut the gas to the torch and carried the remaining flowers on a tray. He looked at the cake and the cooling flowers as well as all the other pieces he had made. "Everyone out," he shouted. He watched each and every chef leave him alone. He didn't like decorating with a menagerie. This was something he did on his own. They had done as much as they could, now all he had to do was complete it.

Crimson red eyes wandered up and down the sides of the silver building, "He's gotten better," he commented as he looked at the faces of the building. Tony was another student he had picked up, he had come from a small shop in Little Italy that made pastries from scratch. His work wasn't too bad, but it had all the hallmarks of a cheap Italian pastry chef, a lot of sugar and not enough flavor, a major complaint of a majority of critics. Sebastian stretched his arms over his head, his joints cracked as he did so. Without further hesitation he set to work on pulling out a sprayer and adding coloring, he was going to finish the top and add the lighting, this cake had to be magnificent. After all, it was go big or go home in New York, he wasn't about to let that tradition down.

Time passed with ease as he swapped out colors, lovely rose hues, golds, blues, a little purple, and a blinding white. With each color he rinsed the gun and chamber, every application he watched the cake come to life before his eyes, the vibrant ideas meshed together as he watched the skyline pull itself together, the lighting of the top of the building, the windows, the roses, the mask, the feathers and even the small strobe lights. Sebastian smiled as he pulled back from the cake, "Sir," said Sophie hesitantly. She was standing motionlessly behind him. He could hear the awe in her voice; he couldn't wait to unveil this cake.

Sebastian looked at the group and grinned, "Tonight we deliver the cake, and then I want all of you to go home and sleep," he instructed gently, "Nice job everyone." There was a cheer from them, and he smiled even wider, they had been working tirelessly and the cake was going to really be a show stopper. He couldn't wait to see the look on the Host's face.

He began walking away as Tony and Jean picked up the cake and took it into the massive delivery van. He was suddenly happy he had asked for it to be taller than usual, his cakes always did seem to edge on the extreme these days. Sebastian slipped his jacket off as he made his way to his office, he had been asked to deliver the cake personally.

The raven haired Patissier slipped out of the hat and tossed it to the side before grabbing a clean jacket and sliding it on. It didn't matter the event, he was a member of the kitchen and he intended to stay one. Sebastian rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the jacket and looked at it in the light. The name of his shop shone clearly in the light in red thread. It had been a while since another name had occupied the spot, not since _Noir_ had he worn a jacket with a name branding him as an asset rather than the boss. Even in _Ciel_ he was considered another item to be purchased, never a person.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, before slipping on a clean had and grabbing the invoice. Now all that was left was delivering it and unveiling it, which he was confident in doing. "Let's get this show on the road!" he shouted as he walked out of his office with invoice in hand.

~~xXx~~

There was tension in the air as Lucius waited for the moment dessert would be unveiled. Dinner had gone well, in more than one way he wished his son was the one behind the creation of the meal behind the scenes rather than what he had gotten. Claude would have dazzled them, even though he had paid top dollar for the people who were considered the finest New York had to offer, he still couldn't shake the feeling that Claude would have schooled them all in a single shot.

The Host smiled graciously as he looked around the room, people were whispering to one another, all curious about just what was in store. He had no idea himself, all the Party Planner had told him was that the Patissier was insane, and if he could pull the cake of a genius. While the golden eyed CEO didn't have an inkling as to just what the woman was eluding to, he had a feeling he was about to either be amazed or disappointed and he was seriously hoping the first.

From what he had heard _Le Corbeau_ wasn't one to disappoint, in fact, the Patissier there made a habit of pulling out all the stops and challenging conventions when it came to taste and creativity. He looked at his watch and watched as the hands stopped at 8:30, which was the time the order was to arrive and be out.

William spoke as though the Patissier's identity was obvious, however, Lucius wasn't one to pay attention to chefs. As much as he should have, he never really asked for the chef's name, there were only two he remembered and that was simply because he had met them both. Ash Landers, and Sebastian Michaelis, both had attempted to return his son to him, and both failed.

Lucius lifted the microphone and was about to apologize when he noticed Victoria shaking her head and mouthing, "Wait." He gazed at her dumbly as he watched her rush over to the band, the conductor grinned broadly, in fact it was so wide Lucius was sure the mans' face would break.

He was about to march over, when she gave him a thumbs up with a silly child-like smile. Victoria didn't usually do things like this, and he had a feeling it was upon the Party Planner's request. He shook his head, theatrics were fun, but this seemed a bit much for a cake. Lucius held the microphone up and smiled as he said, "Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for participating in our games tonight. Now is the moment you've all been waiting for, the unveiling of the dessert from _Le Corbeau_!" Even though he felt as though he were standing on pins and needles he made sure to have a measure of enthusiasm and excitement in his voice.

The lights went out, the room was pitch black save for the stand lights the pit orchestra had brought with them. There was a shuffle from that corner, the sound of stands being picked up, "Yo where'd ya' put my mute?" asked a gruff voice. Lucius stared at the corner curiously, he had no idea why a musician need a mute. "Dude, look under ya' nose," chided the other musician. There was a laugh with a hint of triumph and Lucius shook his head. He heard the sound of instrumental keys moving and the mumbles of the conductor to his orchestra chair. Whatever they were up to, it was impromptu, or something they had been looking forward to all night. "Excuse me," said a slick voice, it was deep and very familiar.

The CEO began wondering just what Victoria had planned or the Party Planner for that matter. He was always up for throwing a large event, but this seemed oddly familiar. Lucius was about to step off the stage and interrogate the musicians, when he heard doors open on the other side of the room. The all too familiar notes of one of New York's most famous songs rang through the air. The trumpets blared happily, as saxophones filled in the harmony, the sound of sticks taping on drums woke the room. Blue light slipped into the atmosphere as the technician turned them on. Lucius' jaw dropped to the floor in a rather undignified fashion.

"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today," sang a broad voice that sounded just like Sinatra, "I want to be apart of it. New York, New York." It was coupled by a piano and he could see a grinning conductor in the front of the room, his white baton bobbed as he conducted in two.

Golden eyes focused on the cake before him. Well, he had been told it was a cake, but what was being rolled out was anything but, it was a work of art.

The cake rested on a massive circular base with a silhouette of the New York City skyline in black, with a beautiful orange, gold, blue and pink sky behind it. There was a touch of purple as shadows of the building making it seem all the more surreal. The bottoms of the buildings had been cut, so the silhouette looked as though it were a wisp of smoke before the vibrant sky, it curled, curved and caressed the cake whimsically. Some of the windows had been cut out, making it possible to see even more of the sky.

Nestled around the base of the building were beautiful glass crimson roses, ever blooming and standing out proudly against the dark finish on top of the base. They brushed against the sides of the building, and looked as though they had somehow grown out of the base of the cake. Each of them looked as though they would shatter if he were to touch them. The pigment was so realistic he would have thought they were real, if they didn't look so glassy.

A white mask made of sugar sat to the side with feather like details around the eyes and a band down the center drawing a line between the blue portion and the white, it's straps curled out under it. Resting just between them was a business card with Faustus International Baking's logo on it complete with motto. It was sitting on top of one of the curling straps from the mask.

Rising out of the center of the flawless base was a perfect replica of the Empire State building; it was 5 feet tall from base to lightning rod at the top. Every window had been crafted, each glistening clearly, some where lit and others weren't. A pair of pristine glass doors was at the bottom and he slowly stepped off the stage to get a closer look. Even the words Empire State Building had been added in yellow letters, identical to the font on the actual building. Just above them was the familiar US Flag, waving on a black pole with a golden globe on top of it. The top had been replicated in sugar and cake, the bright patriotic colors of the flag had been sprayed on to represent the lighting and he stared in shock. The massive needle splitting the air above it was as thin as pencil lead. It was proportional, balanced and so grand it could only be found in New York.

Standing beside the cake, in a black chef's coat was its creator, the dreamer, the daring Patissier who was going to go as far as building the monument out of cake. He couldn't believe they had managed to find a chef as daring as this, many would have stopped at the building but this chef made it an entire scene.

Lucius froze mid-step, staring at him were bright red eyes, the one chef he thought he would never see again, Sebastian. His eyes widened significantly, the Patissier had black hair, and it was longer than before, but still ink black. He had beautifully rounded cheekbones and regal features. Sebastian's smile was bright as the lights went back to their original hue. A roar of applause was heard through the room, for a moment he was sure it could be heard through the entire city.

The Host was frozen, the man who had been hurt by his son and left to protect him was standing beside the cake. The very Patissier he had searched for, for six years was just an arms length away, and yet he couldn't find him. He had hackers search the web for him, nearly interrogated food critics, only to find the chef in the last place he expected. He had thought Sebastian returned to Paris, and yet there he was, standing proud in Manhattan.

It wasn't until then Lucius remembered he was the Host; he smiled and said proudly, "Ladies and Gentleman, the Empire State Building, crafted by Sebastian Michaelis, Patissier of _Le Corbeau_!" There was another round of applause as Sebastian bowed slightly and then held out a glistening silver knife, "After you," he instructed simply. Lucius' hand shook slightly as he took the knife and looked at the cake, he didn't want to cut it, it was too beautiful. "Wait! Before we do any cutting! I want a photo!" he cried, causing people to laugh loudly at his antics. Usually he would laugh at himself, but he couldn't help it, this cake wasn't a cake, it was a masterpiece.

Lucius stood before the cake as a photographer appeared out of nowhere, obviously Victoria had through ahead. He smiled as he stood beside the cake with Sebastian on the other side and the photos were snapped. The flash was violent and he listened to the shutter close before moving to cut the cake. He slowly slipped the knife into it and smiled as he watched the signature chocolate cake rebounded, he could smell the raspberry filling, it took everything he had to not lick his lips as he took a slice out of the beautifully crafted base. With ease he got the cake out of the round and set it on his plate, which a waiter was conveniently holding.

Once finished a waiter collected the silver implement and began cutting. Lucius turned to speak to Sebastian only to find the chef had vanished as quick as he had come. "That was Sebastian?" he asked curiously. He felt a hand on his shoulder and noticed William was grinning. The Sommelier knew, very clearly he knew just who was crafting his order. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or happy to see the Patissier. His emotions were in turmoil. William squeezed his shoulder and whispered, "Be irate tomorrow, enjoy tonight, with this cake, this charity will be the most profitable of all time. Considering you donated it all."

Lucius slowly relaxed and walked back over to his table with the cake, tonight was full of surprises, not only had he seen Ronald and William but he had seen a Patissier whom everyone knew in London, a living legend who clearly hadn't lost his touch.

~~xXx~~

The night air was cooler, and the humidity had been low thankfully. Cakes were sensitive, especially pieces of that size. Even the slightest change in humidity or temperature would cause the cake to collapse on its self, the fondant to soften, the roses to wilt, the detailing on the mask to weep and the beautiful silhouette to dethatch from the base. The sound of applause rung in the air, it was louder than the traffic and the shouting of people, it hummed brightly in the darkness.

Slender fingers pulled the black jacket closer to his body, "Summer is around the corner and it still feels like winter," griped the Patissier. Sebastian continued down the street, his footsteps muffled by the sound of the band still playing in his head. He hadn't expected Victoria to suggest a dramatic entrance for the cake, he thought he was simply dropping the piece off and leaving. Yet, she wanted him to take it out after seeing how intricate it was. A smile curled pink lips, he had to admit it was fun to see their expressions as he carted out the cake. The blue lights had only added to the drama that the band in the corner had created.

It had been six years since he moved to New York, yet, he understood a New Yorker's love of their city from day one. They were passionate when it came to their state, so seeing the Empire State Building being brought out on a cart just for them was more than enough to incite a response of such a magnitude, especially when accompanied by Frank Sinatra. Sebastian hopped up the stairs and pulled out his key ring as he did so, apparently the owner of the building allowed him to have the apartment above his shop. It was a nice space, large and open. He couldn't deny the other factor that gave it such appeal, the fact that his shop was just below him, making the morning far easier. He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Once inside he walked over to the wall and typed in the ten digit pin for the security system to disarm it.

Sebastian smiled to himself as he looked at the shop, thankfully the crew had cleaned up before leaving, making it easier for him at the end of the night. It was strange to be in the place after hours, it was eerie without customers. Slowly the Patissier moved back to the front door and locked it. Once done he walked back over to the wall and reengaged the alarm. He didn't plan on going anywhere that evening. The night was long enough, he didn't need to spend more time wandering. Sebastian crossed the floor and quickly opened the till and opened the book keeping program he used.

"Now let the management end begin," he mumbled as he picked up a stack of hundreds and began counting. Large bills were something that took getting used to, apparently they weren't that uncommon he just wasn't used to having that much cash. His fingers flicked through the stack as he counted. Even though he was still successful as a business owner he still didn't like spending a great deal, unless it was for the customers. He preferred a simple life, one with good food, and nice wine but simple furniture and very little fuss.

The Patissier finished counting with ease and entered the total of the till into the computer before looking at the number of pickups that had been made. "Not bad," he commented with a small smile, it was a nice high number, "I may have to make a deposited sooner," he mused. He banded the stacks before placing them in a bag with the date on it as well as when he had counted it, before getting up and putting it in the safe in his office. It was a rather bulky thing, however the interior designer clearly didn't like to compromise, it was the perfect size though for the shop.

After finally counting all of the bills and putting the drawer away, he stretched his tight limbs above his head and yawned. He was exhausted the cake had taken several days to craft and he was still impressed that they had managed to complete it. Sebastian slipped out of his office and walked toward the back, the entrance to the rest of the building was there. Through the kitchen he ventured only to stop before the door leading to the stairs connecting his shop with the apartment above. He smiled a little and said smoothly, "Good night."

~~xXx~~

Compliments were sang through the room as the Host sat back and looked at the slice before him. His mind was reeling, as he fished out the business card. He looked at it suspiciously, who ever had slipped it in his organizer knew who the chef was and knew he would attend the event and see the Patissier again. He tapped the card against his palm and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

* * *

_**Review Replies:**_

_Bittersweetness: Thank you for taking the time to review, I'm glad you found your way to Book 2. This time it's going to be a bit different, this book is going to move. I'm glad you're interested right off the bat and I hope I can keep you going. It's going to be fun._

_Courtney: I'm glad you joined me! Thanks for reviewing by the way. There's a lot going on already, and I haven't even introduced the issues specific to just this book. Sebastian has grown up quite a bit, he's stronger than he was before and you'll notice he's certainly more confident. Claude and Sebastian have a great deal to talk about. Ronald and William, well it's going to be interesting when Ronald tells William what's eating him. It's going to get quite the response. Lucius knows how to party, I know I would love to attend. _

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	4. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for reading so far. I'm glad so many of you are interested in this series. I know this chapter is a little slower, but take your time or you'll miss the important pieces. _

_For those of you who want to hear the trumpet, go to my webpage, you'll find the link under Media and Extras. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: "My Funny Valentine"**

The city was always alive, awake and ready to move, Manhattan had this heart beat that echoed through every alley, shook every building and governed the streets. It was elemental, essentially every one of her inhabitants knew it and abided by her pace. It was natural, especially in the morning. It was felt to the very top of a massive building with a luxurious penthouse at the very top. The sun kindled the sky, its bright hues of gold and orange set the skyline a flame as a new day was reigned in. The light swept over the city, rousing everything it touched and beating back the demons it had allowed to roam during it's slumber.

Yet, not all who dwelled in the night were beaten back into the shadows by the light. There were some who wished to live in the sun, but often didn't find that luxury.

Leaning against the railing of the balcony attached to an elegant penthouse, was none other than the golden eyed Host of the night before. Tire gold eyes gazed at the city bellow, they had dark circles under them, and bags, he looked as though he hadn't slept in months. Lucius sighed as he leaned on the stone wall, he could hear his staff and Dieter setting up breakfast behind him, but found it difficult to care.

The events of the evening before were haunting him, to the point he couldn't seem to turn off. William had been right, they managed to raise more money than he thought possible in a single night, and oddly after images of the cake had been posted, there was a flood of donations for the charity. Strangely all it took was an amazing cake and a charity name to get funds. A sigh escaped Lucius, it had been 6 years, such a long time, and yet Sebastian hadn't aged a day.

In fact, the only thing that gave away just how long it had been was the length of Sebastian's hair. It swept across the base of his neck, and stopped just short of his shoulders. He could still see the long strand that had slipped out of his hat, it was raven black. For the Patissier time had stood still, never touching him, only making him stronger, and more confident. Those red eyes he had gotten used to seeing glassy from the tears Sebastian had shed while watching his lover wander around aimlessly were gone, what remained were a pair of hardened ones.

Luicus swept a hand through his graying hair, and looked at the concrete beneath his fingers. He should have been able to find the Patissier, his son was broken now. Resting just a breath away from his fingers was a familiar mobile. After the cake had been presented he got the number of Le Corbeau from the party planner, he was honestly tempted to call Claude and give him the number. Yet, he wasn't sure how much damage that would do to his son.

There was a shuffle behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see Dieter standing quietly, his hands were clasped before him and his eyes were locked on Lucius. "Sir, Claude is here to see you," the German said softly. Lucius quickly straightened up, his eyes were wide with shock as he strode past his servant and looked into the dining room which was attached to the balcony. Standing several paces from the white wooden doors with glass panels was his son.

Claude was pale and looked thinner than he had in London. His eyes held less of a shine, and were relatively unfocused behind his glasses. His hair wasn't styled and he stood in a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. His arms were wrapped around himself as he said, "Hi, Dad," he sounded lost once more and Lucius broke inside. He smiled warmly and held his arms open, hoping his son would take advantage of him for a moment and confide in him. Yet, Claude stood resolute, he didn't even gravitate toward Lucius, causing the man to drop his arms and ask awkwardly, "Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

The CEO knew he wasn't the greatest father, for years he couldn't accept his son's calling or sexuality, only to have his son vanish, a stranger occupying his skin. "Sure," replied Claude dully as he walked out and took a seat across from him. Promptly Dieter had another tray brought over, complete with coffee. Lucius took a seat and smiled before lifting his cup of coffee. Claude merely stared at the wooden tray before him, as though it were a stranger.

Silence filled the space as he waited for Claude to speak. He found over the years it was better to let Claude ease into the conversations than to press him. The sun was rising higher in the sky as he waited, the bright blue sea above was visible as the clouds began to drift on win. "The Charity Event was last night," Lucius stated after taking a much needed sip of coffee. Claude looked up curiously, his golden eyes were brimming with intrigue, clearly the chef had forgotten about the event. It wasn't surprising, Claude didn't attend many events anymore.

Lucius picked up his fork and slipped it into his omelet before continuing, "It was rather successful too, you would have enjoyed it," he mused before slipping a sliver of the fluffy yellow eggs, with Swiss cheese, mushrooms and spinach into his mouth. Claude slowly slipped his fingers around the white mug on the tray, "You would have loved the cake," he said with a smile.

Claude snorted and glared, "Doubt it," he hissed. Lucius smiled and shook his head as he pulled out his mobile. "Oh no, I'm sure you would," Lucius breathed as he flickered through the photos after a moment he found the one and turned the phone toward Claude whose eyes were on the plate before him. A breeze swept through ruffling Claude's hair, hesitantly gold eyes looked at the screen and widened. A smile curled Lucius lips as he watched the chef take the mobile and look at the image with a hint of awe and wonder, a reaction that only Sebastian's work could produce.

The chef decided to zoom in on the image, the closer he got the more shocked he was, "Is it completely edible?" he asked curiously as he swept through the image, his fingers gliding across the screen as he did so. Lucius chuckled and replied softly, "Of course, nothing less than expected of the Patissier." Claude's eyebrows lifted in confusion as he looked at Lucius. "Who?" asked Claude in wonder.

The delight in Claude's eyes was similar to a child's as he looked at the images before him, even Lucius recognized the fact that Sebastian had pushed the limits that night. "Go to the next image," he instructed. Claude did just, Lucius couldn't wait to hear his son jump and ask for the number of the shop, it's name and address. Only, that wasn't the response, "Are you kidding me!" he shouted. Lucius flinched and watched as Claude put the phone on the table and crossed his arms. His eyes were narrowed and nostrils flared, Claude was clearly irritated.

The CEO slowly reached over to save his mobile before his son threw it off the skyscraper. Claude glared at the hand as though it were vermin and Lucius froze, he knew that look, he had seen far too many cooks and other chefs at the receiving end of it. "Unbelievable, he wants me to prove I need him and I want him, yet he does this," he hissed, "How the hell am I supposed to show him I'm worthy of him when he has a five foot cake!" Claude gestured widely before pleating his fingers through his hair.

Lucius was silent for a moment as he watched Claude's face twist with irritation, he hadn't see the chef this worked up in years. "Fuck!" he hissed before leaning back in the chair and looking up at the sky. His hands swept over his face tiredly, this was the most emotion the CEO had seen from his stoic son in years. "You knew," said Lucius dumbly, he knew he was pointing out the obvious but Claude's reaction was certainly the opposite of what he anticipated.

There was a rustle as Claude crossed his legs and slowly looked at his father, his elbow was on the arm of the chair and he leaned into his palm. He pursed his lips in contemplation, before saying, "Oh yeah, I know. We've seen each other," he stated as he glared daggers at his father, "He pushed me away and told me to prove to him I'm here to stay." Lucius was taken back for a moment, he knew the Patissier was strong and six years was a long time to work alone in New York. However, he wasn't expecting that, he had thought Sebastian would throw himself at Claude and hatch an idea together to open a nice place.

A smile curled Lucius lips, as much as it hurt to admit, he liked seeing a strong Sebastian. He had watched somber Patissier for months as he attempted to get Claude to remember him. Even though it wasn't Claude's fault he didn't remember, he could tell Sebastian wanted to prove he wasn't the same man, he was stronger. The night before he had seen the confidence that radiated off him, like the warmth of the sun, and now to hear of his own son being told the patissier wasn't going to be swept away again was humorous. "Something wrong?" asked Lucius with amusement.

He could remember the time he had met Claude's mother, she was a spitfire, and boy this sounded a hell of a lot like something she would do. It took everything he had to not chuckle about this, he could still remember the first time he had met Evelyn. "Why the hell are you laughing?" asked Claude with irritation. Lucius froze, and suddenly realized a few chuckles must have escaped.

The golden eyed CEO shook his head, a goofy smile curled his lips as he did so and he looked at the wedding band on his finger. He didn't take it off, "Have I ever told you about your mother?" he asked. Lucius popped a strawberry into his mouth and watched several emotions cross his son's face, they ranged from shock to confusion and finally irritation. He held up a hand before Claude could shout at him and lifted a pearl white napkin to his lips. With ease he dabbed his lips before placing it on his lap once more and folding his hands before himself.

Lucius chuckled as he remembered the woman he had fallen head over heals with all that long ago, she changed after having Claude. "You're mother was something when she was younger, she was the only woman to push me away, and the only one I ever wanted," he said with a chuckle, he could remember how fierce she was and that glare she had when she was truly annoyed. Part of him was certain it was genetic since he had seen it many times before on Claude. "I met her while we were in college, she was an Architecture Major, and boy did she have talent. I juggled dollars, cents, and curves but she could design skyscrapers," he stated in awe as he looked at the landscape.

The smell of orchids and amber caressed his nose, her perfume, it used to cling to everything. "At the time she was the youngest and most promising of the program, she had long black curly hair, almond shaped ocean blue eyes, large lips and pale skin, Evelyn Lucinda Fairchild. She had this body that would stop a truck, honestly a perfect hour glass with legs that went for miles," he said with a goofy smile on his lips.

The expression on Claude's face was priceless, "She sounds like a model," he stated dumbly. Lucius laughed as he pulled out his phone, he had a few photos of her in it, to be honest he was sure a woman like her would give even the modeling world something to talk about. He found his favorite of her leaning against his white Lotus Esprit, dressed in a short emerald green dress, with a black leather jacket black high heels and gold bangles on her wrists. The dress had a plunging v-neck and was stopped mid-thigh. It swayed in the breeze, her smile was gravitational as the wind tussled her hair. Her blue eyes popped against the darkness of the dress, she wore a pair of hoops gold hoops he had gotten her and smiled brightly.

He handed the phone to Claude and grinned, "Oh she was, she most certainly was," he stated as he watched Claude's eyes widen and his jaw drop. Lucius laughed as he smiled fondly, "Now imagine a woman like that carrying a drafting tube and case of triangles, honestly she made every man want to be an architect. I just wanted to ask her to dinner," he stated. Claude slowly handed the phone back to him, he could tell his son was quite surprised that he had managed to snare such a woman. "I can remember the first time I tried asking her out, at the time I was known as one of the Faustus children, so money was a synonym to my name. Anyway I decided it was a good idea to ask her to dinner," he stated.

Claude was quiet, and listening intently, Lucius wasn't sure if it was because the story was of his mother, or if he was trying to figure out what the point was. "No one seemed to be dating her, so I asked her to join me for lunch," he chuckled, "I was a bit egotistical, I was the one who drove a Lotus to school. Anyway she turned around and told me I needed to cool off," he looked at the glass of water on the tray and stated, "She then took a ice cold bottle of water and poured it over my head." Lucius laughed hysterically at the memory, "Boy, was I pissed. She then walked off, her hips swaying with confidence as she did so and that smile of triumph, dear god that smirk."

He could still see those full lips curling up at the corners, it was sensual and drove him insane. All he wanted to do was kiss them, and find out just what secrets she was holding from him, "She drove me nuts," he stated as he swept a hand through his hair, "She rejected me 8 times, and yet I always went back for more."

Claude was laughing hysterically, Lucius watched his son grip his sides and shake his head. "Only you dad, only you," he said as tears fell from his eyes, tears of true amusement. The CEO shrugged as he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, he loved how the coffee seemed to warm him from the inside out. "How did you snare her?" asked Claude curiously, he was leaning on the table and looked genuinely curious now.

Golden eyes met as the elder of the pair sighed, "That part isn't as funny. Since Evie was so popular among men, there are a lot of men who would do anything to have her. She had been working late one evening before Finals. She had a ton of work, so much that I knew not to bug her," he began and turned more serious, "Anyway, I had been finishing my business model when I heard shouting in the parkinglot, there was a scream and what sounded like breaking glass. I ran over to see if I could help, I was 22 at the time and didn't think to call the cops. It was dark and all I could tell was a very large man was pressing someone smaller into the hood of a car."

He looked down at the back of one of his hands, he could still see the scar faintly and drew a deep breath, "I didn't think, I immediately attacked the person who was pressing what I figured out to be a woman from the scent of her perfume. I took a few punches and returned a greater number, after a short spar, he took off. When I turned my attention to the girl, I realized it was Evie," his voice was shaking with rage, no matter how long ago it had been it still angered him. There was dead silence and Lucius closed his eyes, he understood how Claude felt when Sebastian was taken, and the threat of being raped. Something large and warm wrapped around his hands and he looked down to see his son taking hold of one of them, somewhere along the line Claude had moved the chair closer to him and was now sitting beside him, rather than across.

Lucius clutched Claude's hand, "He was going to hurt her and she looked at me with terrified eyes, so I did the only thing I could think of, I took my coat off and handed it to her, before calling a tow truck for her car. After that I asked for her parent's numbers or someone she felt safe with, she didn't have any so I took her back to apartment," he explained and smiled a little, "Several days later she appeared again with a basket of food and a blanket, with one question, 'Lunch?' who was I to refuse," he stated with a smile. Claude seemed happy and he watched his father chuckle, "So I joined her for lunch everyday in a park by the Hudson, and later we met at a nice restaurant. Every time we met we spoke of dreams. She always wanted to build a skyscraper and touch the heavens, she wanted to show the world that a building was a piece of art, not just something of function.

"As time passed we tried dating other people, ironically we both moved into the same apartment building, and left for work at the same time everyday, she would go one way down the street and I another. We'd spend time together, Birthdays, Holidays and even sick days, we helped each other. She cried on my shoulder and I, well I would often shout a bit after a breakup, and she would listen. Years went by, and this went on, this platonic relationship.

"We learned a great deal from one another, one night she called me, I was in London and staying at the Ritz, only for her to say, 'Fuck I think I love you,' and hang up. Apparently after the realization she remembered it was 1 am in England," he explained, causing his son to laugh. Lucius nodded and chuckled at their antics, they were so foolish then, "I sat there like an idiot for a moment as my sleep fogged brain finally understood what she said. I thought for a bit only to find myself calling her back and I told her, 'Fuck, I think I love you too,'" he finished and shook his head. He looked at Claude and stated, "The entire time I swear she was just trying to see how long I would stick around, and how much I really wanted her."

Claude was quiet for a moment, his eyes fell on the white table cloth and his lips were still. Lucius smiled as he watched his son's brow furrow, "So I have to be there for him, it's like I'm starting from square one," he said thoughtfully. Claude put his elbows on the table, and slowly leaned into his hands, his chin rested in one palm as his other hand fell flat on top of the table, he looked ejected, and so very crestfallen. Broad shoulders fell slowly as a sigh rolled off of them.

Lucius' gaze softened, no matter how proud he was of Sebastian becoming so strong, he didn't like the fact his son was in pain. He slowly placed a hand on Claude's shoulder, he had seen crushes come and go from afar, always having Dieter keep tabs on his stubborn son, yet this wasn't a crush. This was true love, and to not have such a love returned was true agony. Claude's golden eyes slid over to look at his father, "My funny valentine," mumbled the chef softly. Lucius was confused until he heard the soft call of a trumpet not too far away. He knew it was one of the maids cleaning the apartment, yet it was so fitting. Lucius looped an arm around his son and whispered, "Yes, he's your funny valentine."

~~xXx~~

The alarm clock blared in the room, calling it's inhabitant to attention. Bright red number illuminated the room, they were blinding in the darkness, and yet where the only things visible in such a dark place. Blindly a hand slipped out from under burgundy red sheets and felt blindly for the snooze button. Fingers swept over the black rounded curves of the digital clock before stopping at a raised button and hitting it. Nestled under the soft red sheets was a the apartment's owner. They fluttered back with a rustle as the man roused from slumber, joints popped as the man stretched his back and arms above his head, as though he were reaching for heaven above.

"Morning," he mumbled as he slowly swept a hand through his messy black hair, red eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He had slept an extra hour after having such a grueling night. The Patissier sighed as he slipped out of bed, his feet hit the floor and he walked into the bathroom. The apartment was larger, larger than his own had ever been, it even gave Claude's a run for his money. Sebastian slowly walked over to the large shower and turned it on, the sound of water cascading filled the air, the constant flow of water hitting the walls and floor of the shower slowly woke his senses. Warm steam wrapped around him as he slipped his hand into the stream.

His mind wandered back to Claude, he hadn't expected to see the chef that day, it had been six years, six very long years. Sebastian lifted his gaze, staring back at him in the mirror was a very different man. He still had red eyes and black hair, but it was longer, it now brushed his shoulders and was thicker than it used to be. He had gained a light tan from running in the park in the mornings, and wrinkles from worrying. Lines were appearing around his eyes and lips, laugh lines as many referred to them whenever he smiled.

Sebastian swept his hair back and looked at the scars he had from burns over the years, they were bold against his skin. Yet, this wasn't where his eyes lingered, they lingered on his chest. Scars, so many bold scars from the abuse so long ago, his fingers brushed over them, they were part of him, a part he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget that small scared boy, the young man who was at the end of an unforgiving riding crop. Desperately he desired to erase all his weaknesses, to lock them away from view and scream never again. There was no way Claude would want him, he knew there were scars on his back from the abuse, his weakness. Everyday he would see them and remember, all those years as a terrified child subjected to agony simply because others liked seeing him in pain.

Skilled fingers gripped the sink of the cream and tan bathroom, the white porcelain was cold under his fingers, harsh and slick like the counters of his kitchens, "I know who I am," he stated. The memory of the elevator was fresh in his mind, the day Claude asked who he was. "I am the Patissier who makes dreams reality, I am stronger, I am my own knight," he whispered. In his head he knew the words weren't as strong as they had once been.

The Patissier slipped out of his loungers and stepped into the shower, the warm water on his skin washed the night down the drain, it had been years since he had a nightmare. Oddly after moving to New York he managed to leave that place behind, he had other things to worry about. He had a shop to look after, a crew of cooks and talented young minds working under him, customers with high demands that seemed to climb with every order, and finally a world to amaze. Sebastian placed his hands against the tiles, he felt the water slip down his back and hung his head, Claude's expression lingered in his mind.

Never before had the proud Head Chef looked so distraught and confused. Sebastian's chest constricted, Claude's golden eyes were filled with shock and pain. Only now did he realize his knight in shinning armor was far too thin, even though his frame was broad, his cheeks were too hollow. His hair wasn't as lustrous as it had once been, it lost its shine, much like his eyes. While his fingers were still elegant they seemed heavy, cumbersome almost. Time had touched Claude, he looked older, tired mainly. So very, very tired, it hurt Sebastian even more.

He had left the proud Chef in hopes that he could find just who he was and become a stronger person. Someone Claude could stand beside and not feel as though he were protecting him. Yet, now, just when he had finally achieved such strength, Claude had fallen.

The water stopped falling with the twist of a dial after a moment he walked back into his bedroom with a plush towel around his waist, a cool breeze filled the apartment after he walked over to the sil and opened the window. He was about to walk away when the lonely sound of a trumpet slipped through the opening. Sebastian paused and looked out the window, just across the street was a middle aged African American. He was holding a pristinely polished silver instrument in his hands.

Sebastian walked over to the dressed and pulled on some jeans, the solemn sound of a trumpet calling to it's lover filled the room. There was a hint of desire and hope as the musician played, it was soft in tone and affectionate. The cotton shirt was soft against his skin and Sebastian picked up a brush before returning to the window. He took a seat in the window seat he had placed before it and watched the trumpet player. He had grayed a bit, and his eyes were closed as he played to the city.

The apartment across the way's owner had moved in five years ago, after his mother had died. Before that he had moved out after college, he wanted to chase his dreams. Every morning he would wake up and walk onto the balcony, his glistening silver bell pointed toward the sky, as he played for an hour. No one disturbed him, no one ever dared to yell enough, he was far too good. The golden light of the sun struck the bell as the man played, welcoming in the day. Ever since he moved in Sebastian would listen to him play, it wasn't until later the musician came into his shop and asked for something to eat.

The notes seemed to drift aimlessly, the tune was wonderful and vaguely familiar, it felt as though something were missing. Usually Sebastian would smile and march on, yet he couldn't this time, the sound reminded him far too much of Claude, that expression, his pain. The Patissier groaned and shook his head before closing the window and getting ready to go downstairs. "Enough," he growled as he slipped down the stairs and put on his chef's coat. "I've had it," he hissed.

Sebastian walked through the shop and opened the door, and waited, like clockwork they would file in, each of his assistants. He knew their routines, Sophie was always first, she drove a moped and always parked it in the alley near the dumpster. Then there was Tony, who walked to work with his bag over his shoulder and usually a little groggy still. The final member was usually the last, he rode a bike, it was a bulky mountain bike, but apparently wasn't so heavy that the man couldn't lift it, Keith.

Once all the chefs were there, they began their usual work, they never said a thing about the night before, they were simply not awake enough to do so. Sebastian smiled as he watched them before filling the coffee maker in the back and starting the pot. The smell of warmth and lightly roasted coffee beans filled the back, causing the chefs to wake up a little more. Sebastian's fingers slipped through his long hair as he tied it back with a ribbon and tucked once more under a cap. It was time to make the bread.

He opened the cupboard only to see the spider again and sighed, he hadn't killed it, or taken it out. Red eyes fell on the black arachnid above him, he debated for a while if he should take the creature outside, and then decided against it. Spiders were good for bugs, or at least that was what he had convinced himself of.

~~xXx~~

Home is defined as a place with walls and windows, it has doors, floors and even furniture. Yet, this isn't always home, home is ambiguous, it can't be defined by simply an address, it doesn't have walls, floors, ceilings or doors. Home is where a person feels the safest. Where they are able to be their truest form of themselves with ridicule, somewhere far from all the dangers of the world, a place where love may grow exponentially. Home, is where the heart is.

The warm summer air folded itself into the room, and a pair of weary green eyes opened. The smell of linens and cotton filled the air, there was a dull rumble of traffic passing just below. A cool breeze caressed sticky tanned skin, a white sheet was wrapped around the figure's legs, leaving the rest of his body exposed. Lazily the bed's inhabitant flopped onto his side and reached across the bed, only to discover it was wrinkled but cold, meaning it had been empty for a while. A groan emanated from the bed as a small hand rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. After a moment the sound of joints popping filled the air as the inhabitant stretched. Blond hair fell in his eyes as he slipped his fingers through it. Ronald slowly reached over to his nightstand and put on his large black frames.

He looked over to William's side of the bed and spotted a note on the pillow, "He went for a run," he mumbled as he slipped out of bed, his entire body ached. "So glad he can move," he stated as he gingerly began to walk. The sommelier had been all too happy to claim the young blonde after the Gala, something about the tuxedo made the main insatiable. He stood before the closet in a pair of boxers he had snatched from his own dresser.

Fingers danced over racks of clothing, feeling the supple fabrics of William's dress shirts as they moved. After a moment, Ronald settled for a crisp light blue shirt and slipped it from the hanger, causing the wire hander to tip as he did so. The fabric was soft, not as soft as the sheet of their bed, but close.

Ronald left the warm red bedroom and wandered into the living area, he could still remember just where they striped each article of clothing, yet none of it was seen. Obviously William had cleaned them up and dropped them off at the dry cleaners. He padded across the plush cream carpet and into the cold floored kitchen. Humming as he did so, William would certainly want coffee later, he always did. Ronald pulled out a silver tin and began measuring the brown powder that had rested in it.

Everything had changed after he moved and yet, he couldn't get it out of his head, what he had done. It made everything heavy, he wanted to tell William, and yet he couldn't, he couldn't lose the man again. Ronald turned the coffee maker on, and jumped up on the counter opposite of it. His hands gripped the counter as he crossed his legs. The entire time his mind battled with him, "Do I say it?" he asked slowly.

"Say what?" asked a familiar voice. Ronald snapped to attention and looked over at William who was picking up a white fluffy towel and wiping the sweat from his brow. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard his lover come in. Ronald looked at the floor once more and crossed his legs again.

William slowly slipped out of his shoes, Ronald could hear them hitting the floor and listened to the man walk over to him. He could smell the man's scent rolling off him, William smelt wonderful, and he couldn't take it. Ronald looked up through his lashes at a glistening version of the dark haired man. His hair was loose, and he had put in contacts, meaning the glasses were long gone. His gray cotton shirt was tight across his chest and he was wearing a pair of compression shorts. Ronald whined as his eyes traveled over the Sommelier.

A look of confusion crossed the Sommelier's face, his emerald green eyes sparkled with amusement and Ronald had enough. With little warning he was grabbing the man's shirt and pulling him into a kiss. He would just tell William later, he wanted to Sommelier too badly for a rational conversation. A chuckled left the taller of the pair as he asked, "Is this my shirt?" innocently. Ronald shrugged as he slipped his fingers over the man's toned chest, "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased.

The Sommelier chuckled as he slipped his fingers through Ronald's hair before tugging on it forcing the smaller man to look up at him. William's eyes were filled with carnal desire as he attacked the man's neck. Ronald's eyes closed as he felt hot lips slip over his skin, a slick wet tongue caressing his skin and those broad hands slipping through his hair. "Take. It. Off," commanded William.

Off in the distance Ronald could hear a phone ring and chose to ignore it, as did William. After all if it was important they would leave a message.

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**Review Replies**

_Bittersweetness: I'm glad you enjoy my work so much. I love writing them. I may dabble with other ideas but I always come back to Kuroshitsuji. I'm going to do something unconventional and reply to the review you left on "Bottle Shock," here as well. Seeing as I was just so touched by it. I would be honored to be on that list. I have a feeling it's a tough list to get on, being one of your favorites. As always thank you for reviewing._

_Courtney: That cake is one of my favorites of this book so far, I have quite a bit planned but I wanted to show how Sebastian has grown. Claude has thrown a wrench in things, but you won't see that till now. Claude is quite litterally falling apart, and it is strange to see him so weak, but don't worry you'll see the determined man we love soon. Lucius is going to be quite something, he always is. Thank you for reviewing._

_Glasses: Thank you for your review, I see you're finally accustomed to how I write. I hope I don't disappoint, I never want to. I'm glad you like the drama and twists, as well as the beautirul world of food and wine. Thank you again, it's always a pleasure hearing from you._


	5. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note: _**_I'm glad so many of you liked Sebastian's cake, I have to admit it was a fun one to sketch. I decided to give you guys this update before the next chapter of Bottle Shock, Something wasn't working right in it. A buch of you guys pointed out some characterdifferences with Claude from this work to the next, don't worry you'll see the one you gus love soon enough. _

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**Chapter 4: Reset**

The sun had past its peak for the day, and become shrouded in clouds. A faint tap of rain against the window panes of the office was heard, it echoed through the room. The sunlight which had once filled every corner was gone, and the world had become extraordinarily gray. While the rest of the building was wrapped in bright colors as furry friends were stitched up and placed in boxes, waiting for just the right child to pick them up. Slate colored walls housed the office, a number of ebony bookshelves were propped up against the walls, they were covered in books pertaining to the industry, a number of sketchbooks and a few samples rested on them.

The scent of lavender and jasmine that once lingered in the room had long since faded. Pages of notes were sprawled across a large desk with a computer in the corner of it. They were covered in numbers, diagrams, words and even sketches of their most famous products. Pens had been tossed haphazardly onto the desk, there was even a forgotten tea cup resting off to the side on a white saucer. Photographs were spread through the room, resting on the sideboard was one of the most important photos of them.

Captured in film, eternally young and beautiful, was a woman with light brown wavy hair that curled around her heart shaped face. She had a pair of large doe like sapphire eyes, her lips were small but full and she had a small nose. Her lips were parted in a radiant smile, that seemed to be the only light in the room. She was wearing a beautiful cream sundress with light blue straps and a silver pendant around her neck. The photo itself was in a beautiful rosewood frame, a black ribbon had been draped over the corner with a neatly tied bow.

Resting in a place of honor on either side of the frame was a rather well dressed gray plush rabbit, he wore a smashing midnight blue and gold pinstriped waist coat, with polished brass buttons. A large velvet midnight blue bow was tied around his neck, with a lace fringe at the tips of it. He had large ears with a black eye patch over his left eye. A large white fluffy tail was seen in the back, with a pair of black tails connected to the waist coat.

On the other side of the frame was a sleek raven, it's black feathers were created using very soft black fabric, there was a crimson bow around his neck, and he wore a beautiful red and plum colored vest, with silver buttons. He stood perched on the other side, his red eyes looking out at the owner of the office. The bird's beak was made of a light gray material that was still soft and it's slate legs had wire in them to support the sleek raven.

Sitting at the large desk, was the office's owner, and one of the wealthiest men in Britain. His posture was slumped, causing himself to seem less terrifying than he usually was. His tie was loose and shirt open. His once tame slate blue hair had fallen in his eyes and a pair of chocolate brown eyes looked wearily at the pages on his desk. A tear drop mole was just under his right eye, the only mark marring his perfect skin. He was dressed in black from head to foot, the suit was as somber as the man in it had become. Gone was the spark of mischief in his eyes, they were dim, as though the light had been taken from them.

The door swung open slowly, the heavy footsteps had stopped short of the threshold, "Vincent," called a firm voice, a German accent colored it and drew the man out of his musings. Chocolate brown eyes lifted as they fell on the German in the doorway, a smile curled his lips as relief crossed his face, he seemed to come back to life a little as the German entered the room. The man before him was powerful, he wore a black suit with a white shirt and no tie, he had broad shoulders, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Diederich?" asked Vincent in confusion as the German noble entered the room. It wasn't unusual for the German noble to stop by the owners office. Vincent Phantomhive was after all one of his closest friends, in fact many were sure Vincent was Diederich's only friend and vise versa. For the past six years they had come to rely on one another and deepened their relationship. The slate haired Earl slowly straightened up as Diederich rounded his desk and then leaned on the corner of it. Icy gray eyes softened into concerned silvers as the German looked at the Earl.

Ciel had finally consented to allowing Diederich to be added to the family through marriage, they had waited a long time for the proper legislation to go through just so he could have his husband. A large hand slowly slipped through Vincent's silky slate hair, "You look exhausted love, you need a break," Diederich whispered before kissing the top of Vincent's head. The Earl sighed, as always the man was looking out for him. It had been difficult after losing Rachel, Diederich was still recovering from being shot, which left the Earl to his own devices for a while.

He could remember avoiding telling the German what had occurred, but both Tanaka and Ciel had informed the nobleman before the Earl even had a chance. Oddly the German wasn't angry with him, he had simply held Vincent and offered to do all he could to aid him. It had taken a while for Vincent to come out of his depression, even after the letter from Rachel he had a difficult time accepting the fact that she was gone. "I always need a break," commented Vincent softly as he slowly slipped his hand up and pulled Diederich's hand from his hair, his fingers entwined in the man's warm hand as he did so. Somehow this man always put Vincent at ease, which wasn't an easy thing to do with the number of guns often pointed at him.

Vincent looked at the pages on the desk once more, business had been booming and after the competition six years ago, many were disappointed to see that the leading restaurant Noir, had closed. It didn't help that the award winning chef had vanished into thin air. There was a rustle of fabric and the slate haired Earl looked up to see Diederich pulling out his mobile. His gray eyes widened as he tapped on it and then said, "You have to see this," said Diederich slowly. Vincent sighed, Facebook had erupted with nonsense surrounding him, as had twitter, especially when he had released the raven. It didn't help that he had decided to release that Diederich was more than simply a friend.

Vincent hummed as he crossed his arms and said, "I'm not interested in reading any more of that gossip people call news." Diederich slipped the mobile before him and Vincent's eyes widened, his lips parted as he looked at the all too familiar patissier.

Crimson red eyes stared out of the screen at him, the same black hair only a little longer than before and a slightly tanned completion. Beside the chef, who was dressed in his signature black coat with the name of his Patisserie, Le Corbeau, as a massive replica of the Empire State Building constructed entirely of cake.

The slate haired owner snatched the mobile and scrolled through the images, "They were taken last night at a charity event in Manhattan," stated Diederich. Fingers swept over the screen of the black device only to come to a stop, his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth, "Lucius," he hissed. Even behind the mask he knew the golden eyed CEO of Faustus International Banking, he had asked the man to keep an eye out for the Patissier, especially since he wanted to wring the man's neck for leaving.

Sebastian had left so quickly, no one even realized it until he hadn't appeared for work. There wasn't even a note, the Patissier simply disappeared. For months he had attempted to find the man, he thought that perhaps the raven haired chef had been kidnapped but gave up after three years of fruitlessly searching. Only now did he see the patissier standing in the limelight of one of the largest parties in Manhattan. He could remember every searing review that had been slung as Claude fell into depression, taking Noir with it. What made matters worse was the fact that not a single person knew what happened to the man.

Elegant fingers handed the mobile back to Diederich as the Englishman attempted to reign in his anger. "Call Lucius, and find out just how the hell he found Sebastian," he hissed. Diederich was quiet, the Lord didn't even hear the number being dialed and he looked up in confusion. Diederich was silent, his gaze was elsewhere, "Dee, what?" he asked as the German pointed to the doorway. Standing in it was the illustrious Joker, his orange hair was identical to the way it had been styled six years ago.

Vincent turned his attention to the young director, even if six years had passed,

Joker was still extremely young in the man's eyes. The director was standing in a suit, his hands were wrapped around a tablet as his brown eyes flickered around the room apprehensively. "Am I interrupting?" asked the redhead curiously as he waited for permission to enter the office. It wasn't typical to see the young man, in fact, Vincent hadn't seen him in person since they had finished filming the completion all those years ago. From the very way Joker stood Vincent could tell this was all business.

The slate haired Lord waved his hand to welcome the Director in, flashing a soft smile as he did so. After all the complication they had been through, they considered one another friends, the only issue was their conflicting schedules. "What brings you here today?" asked Vincent smoothly, all signs of his exhaustion were swept away as he slipped into his usual façade. Joker walked over to the desk and flicked something onto it, Vincent's brows knit together in confusion as he looked at Joker.

The redhead looked Vincent in the eye and said, "It's not over." Chocolate brown eyes widened as the powerful Earl picked up the white card. The thick cardstock was familiar against his fingers, the letters VP were on the front, he froze as he looked at the letters. The cards, he had never figured out who was sending them, he could still remember the day he had received a different card with angel wings on it, he learned later it was from Angela Blanc, however, he had no idea just where the others had come from.

The memory of each judge holding one and looking at one another in shock was still in his mind as he held the card between his fingers. "I have no clue what this guy wants but apparently it has to do with six years ago, it's identical to the first one I had found," stated the Director. Vincent flipped the card over and stared at the words on the back.

_Reinvent it._

He placed the card back on his desk and leaned back into his chair, crossing his legs as he did so. Joker continued talking only for Vincent to ignore him, the cards were back, which meant this game wasn't over.

"Reinvent what?" asked Diderich curiously, Vincent felt a smile curl his lips as he realized just what they had to do. He chuckled a little as he tapped his lips with his index finger, usually he wouldn't play into another person's hands, however he was all too curious to see just why this was happening six years later. Joker stared at him in confusion as Diederich asked, "Vince?"

The Englishman looked down at the card as he pulled out his mobile, "He said to reinvent it, so we will, Dee I need you to call up Lucius, I'm going to call a few friends," he stated as he began scrolling through his contacts, this wasn't taking a break but it would serve as a well desired distraction. For far too long Vincent's life had been the same monotones rhythm, no one was challenging him or making noise.

Angela Blanc's incident reminded people of just who guarded England, and wasn't to be trifled with. The information they had desired to pull from the servers was indeed missing, they had searched everywhere for it, only to discovered someone had removed it, and sent it else where. Vincent had his finest minds trace it, only to get lost as the data was bounced from nation to nation. There was something in that missing information, something important, if he was going to find out just what powers he was dealing with he would have to get a hold of those files.

Joker was even more confused as Diederich did as he was instructed and called Lucius, "What?" asked the Director as he looked at the Englishman. Vincent found the number, his thumb hovered above the screen as he looked up. He was smiling widely, the glimmer of micheif had returned as the CEO replied, "We're going to reinvent it, call your boss and tell him we are going to start this all over again," he instructed as he hit the number.

Joker didn't even have a chance to squeeze in a question as the Earl said, "Lau, it's Vincent, listen I need a favor."

~~xXx~~

The apartment was bleak, every curtain had been drawn and there was both garbage and clothing everywhere. The air smelt of gym socks, mold and various foul odors. It was difficult to believe a human could live in such a condition. There were wine and beer bottles scattered throughout, empty and resting on nearly every surface. There were take out boxes splayed on the floor, tables, counters, desks, a number of them had half eaten food in them. Not even the kitchen was clean, it quite frankly looked and smelt like something had died.

The door swung open to as Claude thrust it out of his way, he had a bunch of brown bags and a few people dressed in matching red polo shirts, with Red Cap Cleaning on them. As quickly as he opened the door the stench greeted them, he usually would be embarrassed but he was just too irritated to be. He heard one of them gasp in shock and he sighed, "Bad break up, I'll pay you triple the rate, just get this shit out of here," he stated. He had enough, if he was going to win Sebastian back he had to snap out of this. All five members of the cleaning service stared at him as though he were insane. The Chef placed the bags on the only clean portion of the table he could find and pulled out a box of garbage bags and gloves. "Let's get this started," he stated before marching into the living room.

He had enough, Sebastian was the man he had searched for and he be damned if he lost his Raven again. Claude walked over to his sound system and picked turned it on, with the twist of a dial AC/DC was roaring through the apartment. Golden eyes as he looked at the trash, all five cleaners were moving rapidly, sorting recycling, and trash out. "Sir, you hired us to clean, do what you have to," said a young man, he was very strong from the looks of him, he had ash black hair and a pair of brown eyes.

Claude looked at the young man and nodded, he did, he had to groom himself and get himself back in shape. Without a hesitation the Chef walked into his bedroom and looked at his closet. The last time he looked in it, all he owned were jeans and tee-shirts, there was no way in hell he could win Sebastian back in those. In seconds he was throwing the doors open and looked at the articles hanging in it, "My god, I need a makeover," he stated as he pulled out his phone, he waited for it to ring and said, "Alan, I need you to make me several suits and send them here to Manhattan, add a dozen shirts and ties as well to the order," he commanded.

He flickered through the racks, his eyes getting wider as he did so, he couldn't believe what he had been wearing, it was a disaster. "Yes, those too," he stated before grabbing several racks and throwing the clothing to the floor. He couldn't believe he had been dressing so poorly for the past six years, all his pristine suits were gone. "Thanks Al, I owe you majorly," he stated before hanging up. The Chef put his hands on his hips before pulling every article of clothing out of the closet and expelling it to the floor. With the snap of his wrist he was opening black bags. Eagerly he stuffed the rags into them, "Sir?" asked one of the young woman, she seemed nervous and quite shocked.

He continued shoving the cheap shirts and jeans into them, it was no wonder his father was concerned, "Yes?" he asked after tying the bag closed. He watched her shift her weight and looked up to see her staring at him as though he were crazed. "I'm going to donate there, I need a better wardrobe, I can't possibly win him back with these," he stated. He watched the young blonde's eyes light up and a grin curl her lips. She held out a photo he had put in a frame, the glass was broken and he noticed it was of himself and Sebastian. The photo had been taken after the final challenge. It was one of his favorites.

He slowly took the frame as she replied, "Okay, I wanted to know if you wanted to keep that. Look we've all been through a bad break up. Just make sure this guy is really worth you time." Claude smiled as he looked into her blue eyes, she was determined and rather bold for someone who was supposed to be invisible. He rose from the floor and stood before her, "I know, and he is," he stated. The young woman nodded, just as Claude was walking out of his bedroom he noticed Dieter standing in the middle of the room.

The elusive assistant of his father's had barely aged, his face was relatively wrinkleless, his eyes were still bright behind large glasses. He stood with his hands clasped before him in a three piece blue suit with a white shirt and gold tie. "Sorry man, he said he knew you," said one of the guys who was currently moving his sofa to get under it. Claude put the bags down and stared at the stern and pale German. "Dieter?" he asked curiously.

He could still remember the first time he had met Dieter, Lucius' man servant, he was a well trained butler, and one of the best he had ever seen in action. What made Dieter even more intriguing was the fact that despite the fact he spoke English he didn't use it often. "Your father instructed me to assist with cleaning while you went with Joseph to get a new wardrobe," he stated. Claude was silent, at first he wanted to shout and call his father up, only to realize Lucius had been waiting for this, for a chance to help his son.

There was a gleam of determination in Dieter's eyes, which told Claude that the man had volunteered to do this. "Thank you," Claude said swiftly before darting out the door, his father probably made the appointments for him, which meant suites from fine tailors, crisp shirts, silk ties, supple leather shoes, and a visit to the barber shop was in order. He knew he looked like a bum, god he knew it. He couldn't even look in the mirror, all he had to do was look at the faces of the women he walked past. They looked disgusted and utterly irritated. That wasn't what he was used to.

Claude was on the street in a matter of strides and slipped into the back of a town car his father had loaned him. "Hugo Boss," said Claude with conviction, "I need a new wardrobe." His eyes drifted to the rearview mirror where he could see Joseph smiling, the middle eastern man looked all too happy to take Claude out. "Of course sir," he replied as he pulled out of his spot and into the rushing streets of Manhattan.

As Joseph navigated the streets Claude decided to catch up on news, specifically news pertaining to him. He knew he had vanished for the past six years, but he needed to hear theories. He scrolled through several feeds after doing a search on himself. A number of gossipers had theorized that Claude had thrown in the towel after the Patissier had abandoned him. Others stated he was probably dead somewhere, or Lucius had locked him in his room. The last theory made him smile, if it were up to Lucius he would have taken his son and forced him into the makeover sooner.

Claude slipped his phone into his pocket and looked out the windows; he had to check his accounts and see the damage he had done as well as get his looks back in line. There was just one issue, a vagrant wasn't something Sebastian would date, and being an investor wouldn't cut it. Claude sighed, he loved cooking but Manhattan was full of restaurants who wouldn't be interested in a chef who hadn't touched a knife in four years. He needed something reputable, where he could get his name out there. A sigh escaped the chef, his eyes were glued on the streets until he noticed that they were passing the one place he never thought he would work.

A beautiful building with marble columns and a large brass plaque above the doors, the familiar griffin hovering in the air with the name Faustus International Banking just below, his father's bank. Claude hummed as he whipped his phone out again and shot a text to his father, he was the heir of the company, he mind as well act like it until he could find a cooking job. As much as he despised the idea, he also knew money was necessary for him to do as he pleased.

For Claude money meant so much more than paper to exchange to purchase things. It meant freedom, the ability to do as he pleased without anyone telling him otherwise. It mean power, the ability to make problems vanish with the flick of a pen and resolve others by funneling funds into projects. Money was so much more than paper, it was his independence, his freedom and elixir for life.

The car stopped outside of the store and Claude grinned as he slipped out, it had been far too long since he had slipped into a suit. Without hesitation Claude slipped into the massive store, his eyes wandered over the manikins as he looked at the new cuts and color schemes. He had always been one for the classics and couldn't wait to enjoy them. "Good afternoon, you must be Mr. Faustus son, Claude," said the man with grace as he looked at the Chef. Claude looked over at a superbly dressed tailor, he had a yellow tape around his neck much like Allen typically did, however this man was far older. He had sever wrinkles and was wearing simply a vest with his sleeves rolled up. The tailor was bald but had bright eyes and a goatee, the man was dressed to impress in a black vest and pants combination with a silver shirt.

"I am," replied Claude as he looked over the tailor and smiled, he could always tell what kind of man he would be dealing with based on the cut of his suit. This tailor was old school, but had a knack for new trends, especially with the thin European tie he was wearing. "Wonderful, I heard you need a few suits and a wardrobe," the stated tailor with a smile as he held his hand out to guide Claude further into the building, "Follow me, and we'll get to work."

~~xXx~~

Lucius ignored the vibrating phone in favor of entering the shop that he had recently learned housed the elusive Pastry chef. He had done some research on the Patissier, and learned that Sebastian had been faced with hard times, and there had been points where the chef was risking everything he had. The golden eyed CEO was expressionless as he entered the shop, every review was raving that Sebastian was quite possibly one of the greatest chefs of all time. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, he could smell the sugar and spices from the back. They made his stomach growl and he shook his head, he wasn't going to succumb to the temptation of treating himself to another one of Sebastian's creations.

He had to keep his head straight, the euphoria would only cloud his judgment. The first year was the hardest, especially when he couldn't gather a customer base, which in some ways was understandable. Not only was Sebastian the new kid in New York, but his shop's interior. Typically the more money that was spent on it's interior decorating, the worse the food. It wasn't unusual for a place that appeared five star to serve mediocre food. It was an all too common occurrence. Oddly though it was all solved by a review from a critic named Samantha Scott, a woman with a blog dedicated to food lovers, that brought his small corner into the lime-light and set the bar for every other Patissier in New York. Not only did Le Corbeau make pastries but they made breads as well.

The second incident occurred six months later when another chef had gone after him, for allegedly stealing a recipe. It wasn't unusual for chefs to grow weary of one another, and for those whose business was falling apart to look for a scapegoat.

Sadly for Sebastian, since he was the newest it made him the target. Customers dwindled once more as the Patissier attempted to keep them, rent was harder and harder to pay as time seemed to pass. Lucius hummed as he remembered reading about the time Sebastian had to close simply because he couldn't afford to run the ovens. Then by some miracle he had gotten the chance to cater an event, naturally the chef took it and asked for an advance, that oddly the customer didn't mind. As if by magic the Patissier was back in the lime-light as he pushed others out of the way.

Sebastian had been fighting for years, and his success was all thanks to his own dedication to his craft. Lucius paused as he stood a breath away from the case and looked at the barista. "May I help you?" asked the young redhead softly, her voice was pleasant and he could tell she was a rather sweet woman. Lucius nodded as he looked at her shirt, it was a beautiful black with red writing on it claiming that she worked for Le Corbeau. "I'm looking for Sebastian Michaelis," he said after a moment as he pulled out a business card, "Give this to him for me, he'll know who I am," he stated.

The barista looked as though she were about to object when she looked down at the card, her mouth opened in shock as she looked back to Lucius. He was accustomed to that look, many people gave him the same one after realizing they were looking at one of the wealthiest men in the world. His banks had made him more money than he knew what to do with. "Of course Mister Faustus," she replied rapidly, before vanishing into the kitchen.

He smiled as he listened to a pan smash into the floor, several customers jumped in the air as Lucius chuckled, the memory of the same Patissier dropping the pan for the Frittata. Sebastian slipped out of the door and stood before Lucius, he was whipping his hands on a towel, his red eyes were locked on Lucius with an air of suspicion. The Patissier was lightly dusted with flour, he still looked tired from the night before, making the golden eyed CEO wonder just how much sleep he had gotten. He had a feeling the Patissier had been busy for the past three days and really needed rest.

Sebastian put the towel over his shoulder, the white fabric stood out dramatically against the black jacket. He folded his arms and asked, "What can I do for you Mister Faustus?" his voice was cold and void of emotion. Lucius shivered, years ago Sebastian would have called him Lucius, but he had a feeling those days had been blocked out. Standing before him was a very confident Patissier, who had seen years of pain and struggle.

Lucius looked at the tables and asked, "Do you have time for a chat? I wanted to thank you for the cake and place another order." The Patissier was quite, red eyes looked over his shoulder as though he were debating on whether or not he had time to spare. "I can, Laura, grab my tablet from my office," he said softly, causing the Barista to run off. The air was tense between himself and the chef, it was as though Sebastian were being faced with unpleasant memories.

The Patissier drew a deep breath as he walked over to the table and took a seat. "Please," he said calmly as he held his hand out in offering to Lucius. There was silence between them as Lucius settled into one of the wooden chairs, instantly he fell in love with the place's charm. Oddly it wasn't until he was sitting across from the Patissier that he realized how much of the shop was like Sebastian. It was warm, inviting and nostalgic. He watched a mother come in with her two children in tow, each boy pressing their noses against the glass and gaping in awe at the pastries lined up in fluted cups.

Sebastian watched the children select their treats, a smile had curved the man's lips and his gaze had softened a great deal. Lucius was quiet as he watched the sweet smile form on the Patissier's lips, it was tender and affectionate. The CEO smiled a little, the Patissier he had met was still there, just protected behind a hardened façade. It brought him a little comfort to know that the man he had met, and Claude had fallen for wasn't gone entirely, merely protected. Lucius was itching to ask Sebastian questions but couldn't bring himself to.

In so many ways he felt as though he were a small child sitting before his idol again, Sebastian had managed to achieve the impossible, he created a shop with wonderful food and quite the reputation. "How's business?" asked Lucius finally. Red eyes fell on him once again, the CEO could tell Sebastian wasn't enthusiastic about his presence, yet that wasn't the case as a smile of pride appeared. This was the most confident he had ever seen the raven haired Patissier appear.

Slowly Sebastian's shoulders dropped as the tension fell away from the chef, red eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the Patissier drew a calming breath. It was as though Lucius were watching a feline stretch and uncurl. "Very well, it's been difficult," he replied softly, his voice was worn and Lucius could tell Sebastian was drained. It wasn't surprising to him after seeing the cake the night before that had spread through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Vine rapidly. He knew all too well what it was like to work exceedingly hard and not earn a full night's sleep.

The Barista named Lauren returned with Sebastian's tablet as well as two cappuccinos. "Lauren?" asked Sebastian as she placed it before the Patissier. She smiled a little at him and slid her hands behind her back, "You look exhausted sir, and since you won't rest, I figured coffee would keep you going until you finished the Platt order," she replied. Typically Lucius would lecture an employee for overstepping their bounds, but Sebastian didn't, he simply chuckled, a smirk curled his lips as he shook his head. Lucius looked up to see a pair of very worried brown eyes looking down at Sebastian. Obviously the employees loved their employer, which was just as rare as Sebastian's gift to make dreams reality.

Sebastian lifted the white cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes slipped close again as he purred with delight. "Thank you, Lauren," Sebastian said graciously before placing the cup down again once more. Sebastian's fingers swept over the side of the table as he turned it on, "So, you said you wanted to have another cake for an event," stated Sebastian as he brought the tablet closer to himself and began opening his calendar. "When?" he asked curiously.

"Memorial Day Weekend," he replied.

Immediately the Patissier stopped and looked at him, Lucius smiled, Sebastian had been working in New York long enough to know that when a customer said Memorial Day Weekend, it meant the party season in the Hamptons. The billion heir sat back and looked at his hands for a moment, he could feel Sebastian's curious eyes on him. Lucius loved parties, they were wonderful distraction. For him, throwing a party was the world's largest distraction. By inviting a massive number of people to his home to drink his booze and eat his food, he effectively squashed all curiosity, which surround him, making his life easier.

It wasn't a secret that he spent massive amounts on these events, and had money to spare, in many ways he made more than he knew what to do with. In the Hamptons he had thrown the most exclusive parties of the year, only the truly elite managed to get in, it was considered honestly the hottest party of the year. It was also the kickoff of the Summer Party Season in the Hamptons, and set the bar for every other party hosted on Long Island. Lucius looked up with a smirk on his lips, Sebastian was staring at him like a deer caught at the Head Lights, clearly he hadn't anticipated that order.

The stylus that once was tucked between skilled slender fingers was no longer there, instead the Patissier asked, "How large are we talking?" there was a hint of dread in his voice. This only amused the billion heir, he could throw parties for thousands, but this party was considered exclusive, which translated to approximately 200 people, small in his eyes. "200 people max," he replied nonchalantly. Internally he was reveling in the look of shock on Sebastian's face. The famous Patissier had paled substantially, his red eyes were wide, lips parted as his fingers hovered above the tablet. He looked more like a statue at that point than a breathing individual.

Sebastian swallowed thickly before picking up the black stylus, "Okay, so a small party," he breathed as he wrote down the number. His professionalism returned as the Patissier asked, "What's the theme?" Lucius hummed for a moment before responding, "I haven't decided, you'll know more later, I just wanted to see if you had an opening." Sebastian was quiet as he opened his calendar once more, his fingers glided across the screen as red eyes shifting, clearly reading every detail of it. "Yes, I do, you'll be my only order," he stated. The golden eyed CEO smiled as he picked up his cappuccino, the barista was just as wonderful as the chef and he began to wonder if all of Sebastian's employees were talented.

~~xXx~~

Traffic rolled by, undisturbed as cabs moved to usher people through the city.

Pedestrians scrambled across the streets and on sidewalks to keep up. So many cars, all black and yellow yet one stood out above the rest. For many a black town car was the ultimate mode of transportation, yet this really wasn't preferred for younger men. Nothing was quite like showing up to a place in a smashing car. An elegant woman, with a supple body, bright headlights, curves in all the right places, a charming but strong voice and a name that sounded as exotic as it tasted.

Over the typical rumbled of cabs, a beautiful sound was heard coming down the street, a deep yet beautiful roar, it was meaty but not overly so. It echoed through the street as though to summon the arrival of its owner. Gliding over the asphalt was a sleek laser blue car. Her beautifully polished silver rims sparkled in the light, the bright yellow emblem in the middle added to her charm. This lady in bright blue was like no other.

She had trim curves, sleek lines, and was waxed to perfection. Just behind the silver rims was a pair of cross drilled rotors and bright red brake calipers. Beautiful black tires seemed to glide across the pavement, as though she weren't simply on the road, she simply owned. A sensual curve flowed from the very tip of her nose up the side and under the window, an elegant sweep in which, air seemed to glide over the car with no strain.

The tinted windows were up as it slid through the streets with grace, the bright blue screamed for attention and the spoiler in the back cried for applause. Just under the playful spoiler, Lotus. Her twin silver exhaust pipes were centered in the back, just under the car. Off to the side written just further below the manufacturer's name was the exotic and utterly sinful name Evora.

It came to a stop outside of a massive skyscraper, just as a group of cleaners from the Red Cap Cleaning Company were leaving the building and getting into their van. The car purred before it was finally turned off. A murmur followed this action and it seemed to seep through the crowded streets. All five members of the cleaning crew were staring at the car, several pedestrians froze. Their gaze was locked on the elegant blue lady sitting before them, the Evora's presence enthralled them.

The driver's side door opened as a man dressed in a sleek black suit stepped onto the street in custom made shoes. The jacket brought out his broad back and powerful shoulders; it accentuated his figure as he moved. He had black hair that was tinted a slight purple hue in the light, it was shorter than before, and spiked wildly. The black pants were tight around the waist, but filled out making his long legs look strong, but the pats weren't baggy. A blue shirt was under the black vest and was paired with a slick light blue and silver tie. A black leather belt circled his waist, it's silver buckle glistened in the sunlight. With each step the owner looked more like a wild cat than he did simply a rich man.

A pair of silver cuff-links peaked out of the suit's sleeve as the Evora's owner adjusted a pair of black framed Sheldrake sunglasses further up his nose, the indigo colored lenses looked brighter as a pair of golden eyes shone through them. A white pocket square with light blue, silver, navy and pink vines was in his pocket. A beautiful Tudor diver's watch sparkled in the light, it's blue and orange band provided the drama this man needed.

"Holy shit," gasped the blonde maid as she dropped the bucket on the ground. A smirk curled his lips as he stepped onto the sidewalk, Dieter was instantly before him. "Welcome back, Mister Faustus," the German said with a hint of pride. Claude hummed as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket and handed his keys to the German, "Mind parking it?" asked Claude rhetorically. Dieter's eyes lit up as though Christmas had come early. Not that he could blame him, she was quite the car. "Of course sir," Dieter replied, a hint of excitement had worked its way into his voice. The chef nodded and looked over to the young blonde.

He pulled out his wallet and pulled out several hundred dollar bills. All five of them were in shock as he folded them in half and presented them to the young woman. She stared at the wad of green and blue bills as though it were alien. Claude chuckled, clearly she didn't believe him, "I promised to pay triple, so here it is," he stated, "I'm sure Dieter paid just what you asked." The blonde nodded dumbly as she slowly took the cash.

Claude was grinning, he had caught them off guard, and it felt wonderful to have such power once more. "You know, you were right. I do want him, god I need him, and he's worth it. Now all I have to do is show him what he's missing," he stated as he flashed her a smile and strode back into his apartment building, he listened to the Evora drive away. Just as Claude entered the foyer he spotted a number of reporters, clearly they had heard he left his flat and wanted to see how much of a mess he was.

None of them anticipated his wardrobe change, which only added to the fun as they went wild at the sight of him. "Mister Faustus, is it true you're going to be staying in New York?" called one reporter. Claude ignored her, and continued walking, "Sir, is it true you did all this just to get back your lover?" asked another, the young reporter was very clearly eager and knew about his personal life to a certain effect. The young scion turned his attention to her and replied, "Of course, I want to remind him just what kind of man I am." The elevator pinged as the doors opened and Claude slipped away from the sea of questions.

One thing was certain, Claude Faustus, son of Lucius Faustus was officially back.

"This is going to be fun," Claude said with a smirk.

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_**Review Replies:**_

_**Courtney:** Thank you for reviewing, I know a lot of people want to see Ronald and William have their moments. It's coming but I had a little work to do in this chapter before I could do that. Ronald's got a secret and believe me it's going to come out real soon, sooner than even Ronald is willing to allow. I hope Claude's reaction is what you expected, our favorite leading man is back and boy is he determined. He's going to make a shocking move soon, and believe me Lucius is going to play a huge part of it._


	6. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: **__I wanted to take a chance to thank those of you who have followed me to this point. I'm glad you guys are beginning to enjoy this series. I wanted to show you a different part of their world. _

* * *

**Chapter 5: Proof of Life**

The scratch of a pen could be heard through the open studio. Drawings hung on the walls, small creatures, bows and pattern swatches surrounded the drafting table. In each sketch they were looking out at their creator. The space was open and bright, a great contrast from the office of the CEO of Funtom Toys. The walls were a subtle gold, the floor was a warm wood with several area rugs lining the floor. Various tables had cups of quills, brushes, pencils, markers and even pens sitting in them, waiting for use. Bottle of ink were stopper, sitting on small dishes, paint tubes laid about as well as erasers. Pages were everywhere, in every size, from massive pieces to small scraps they laid about, with no particular order.

Charcoals were smeared across once white pages, and their stubs sat in an old ashtray. Cotton swabs with black smears had been thrown in. Leaning against a large green drafting table, perched upon a rather high stool with a back similar to a chair, with a light overhead was a young man. He had changed a great deal from six years ago, done was the slender young man, he had been replaced by a powerful and strong one. He was a little shorter than most and had a head of slate blue hair.

His fingers were wrapped around a pan as it continuously scratched the page before him; it had been taped to the massive green table with masking tape. Resting on his nose was a pair of tinted glasses, hiding his one damaged eye from the world. He had a rather strong jaw line, with a elegantly chiseled face. His shoulders rippled under his shirt as he leaned against the board, his long torso was highlighted by his black shirt. A brown belt circled his waist, holding his stone pants in place. The young man's feet were resting on the metal ring, that was encompassing the bottom of the stool.

Staring back at him, right off the page, was a pair of round eyes, with curly hair. It had large dropping ears and wore a small dress. The pen continued to move as it added detail to the dress, slowly crafting pleats to the skirt of the dress and adding the plaid print. A smile curled his lips as he signed his name at the bottom, Ciel P.

Things had certainly changed, Ciel slowly leaned back after putting the black technical pen in the drawer to his right he had open. After Rachel's death, Vincent hadn't been able to design another toy, it was as though the man had lost the will to play. After giving Vincent several weeks, Ciel started drawing creatures, the first few had been a disaster but after several tries he had come up with Kayla the Koala. As soon as she hit the shelves Ciel started drawing more and more designs, submitting them to the floor and having them make samples of them, only for his father to approve them.

Originally he was supposed to work as a gofer and grab coffee for the people on the floor, but he couldn't watch his father's work die. The empire his father had crafted simply because he wanted to give the world to his son. Even if the punishment wasn't executed the way Vincent specified, no one seemed to complain as Ciel stretched his imagination. For the past six years he was giving the world something to talk about in stuffed animals, dolls and even electronic toys. All Vincent had to do was enjoy the ride.

The black ink dried slowly, Ciel preferred a strong ink, one that was truly black to others and didn't mind that it took longer to dry, quality above all else. The young Phantomhive pushed away from the drafting table to grab more tea, he couldn't stand the coffee Diederich drank, he found it to be foul and bitter. After two years of winning a number of awards, Vincent gave Ciel his own office in the building and permission to design what he thought would sell. Naturally the young man accepted the offer and officially began working at Funtom Toys.

It was odd at first, he felt out of place among the imaginative men and women who often still saw him as a child. He was the heir of the company and at the same time it's reason for existence. Vincent had crafted Funtom Toys just for Ciel quite literally, the only reason it existed was because the noble wanted to give his son the world, and create safe toys for him. As Ciel watched Vincent and Diederich grow closer he realized the animosity he harbored toward the man was foolish. Vincent wasn't a god, nor was he perfect, he was a father who had been asked to choose between his son and his wife. While there was a part of Ciel who still hated the fact that Vincent ignored him for most of his life, he couldn't blame him either. He would have done something similar if he were in his father's shoes.

To this day the young man hadn't looked for a relationship with anyone, he didn't feel as though he had earned it. He had demolished the one he had with Lizzie, and then broke Sebastian. Ciel sighed as he walked into the break room and put on the kettle, he never found Sebastian so he couldn't ask for forgiveness from the man he had wronged. Lizzie was in Napa from what he had heard through the grapevine of gossipites. He hadn't gathered the courage to see her either, part of him knew it was better to avoid it. After all, he was the reason they fell apart, not her.

Ciel took a seat at the table before him and looked at his hands, there were smudges from ink on them and he hummed, so much had happened. Diederich had been the only one holding Vincent up, his father was in perpetual mourning. It never seemed to end unless Diederich was near. For three years his father walked the halls of the mansion like a zombie, he was so empty it was frightening. He had watched first hand what happened when a man who loved so greatly lost so much in the blink of an eye. There were times Ciel questioned if he should have been the one to live, he always wondered what it would be like if he hadn't and his mother had.

Rachel, he missed her, he missed her dearly. When people learned of her accident the world seemed to pause as one of the warmest hearts they knew vanished, her light being extinguished by fate. In some ways, the accident had been an act of mercy, her test results shown that she would have died in three months time, the cancer was that bad and she was living on borrowed time, apparently death wanted it back. She had been the only one to accepted him for who he was, and all he ever did was push her away.

Every toy in the building had been designed by either Rachel or Vincent prior to Ciel deciding to do something. In many ways, he did this for her, for Rachel. She had given him the world, and Vincent a wonderful adventure. It was the least he could do, to protect his father and ensure her legacy of quality and creativity before quantity and normality. She was the dreamer who had created one of the most beloved toys in the world, Bitter Rabbit, Vincent never released the Raven. The issue was the Raven was nameless, he couldn't simply put it into production without on, Rachel had never named him. It was as though she desired Vincent to.

The kettle screamed, causing the young man to jump and walked back over, he had over boiled the water, again. Now he had to wait for it to cool to the proper temperature before making his tea. Ciel ran a hand through his hair, it was shorter than it had been, he had it trimmed shorter and often styled it. With ease he added tea leaves to a small French Press, the smell of Earl Gray filled the air. A smile curled his lips as he remembered the first dessert the Patissier had ever made for him, that _Strawberry Millie Feuille._ To this day he could remember the taste and texture of the treat. He ached to have it once again, it was a reminder of what he could have had, if he hadn't been so impulsive.

"Ciel?" asked a curious voice, it was slightly forging, yet memorable. It was strange, as though it were from a dream. The young man turned around to see a young man with spiky orange hair, it was pinned up in odd places and looked more like a lions mien than a man's hair. He had bright brown eyes, a small nose and several piercings in his ears. His skin was lightly tanned, and after a moment Ciel realized it was the director for the challenges six years ago standing before him. He picked up the kettle and poured the hot water into the press, "Hello Joker, it's been a while," he commented, "Tea?" he asked.

Joker shook his head before responding, "No, thank you. Your father asked me to get you, he wanted you to join us." Ciel looked at the man before him curiously, the use of the word 'us' didn't escape him. Joker was one of the best in the industry, he didn't make grammatical errors. He nodded as he poured a mug and placed the kettle on a rest, "Certainly," Ciel replied as he walked out of the break room and toward his father's office. Questions rolled about in his mind as he made the trip, Joker wasn't a typical face in fact, the young man was certain he hadn't been seen near Funtom since the finale six years ago.

They turned the corner and Ciel slipped into his father's office, only to be shocked by the amount of light in it. His eyes widened as he looked at the man behind the desk, now grinning with glee. All the life which had drained away from the lord had returned, every drop of vigor was back four fold. He quirked a brow curiously as he glanced at Diederich, who was rather happy to see Vincent back from the dead. His father swept out of his chair and grinned with mirth, Ciel was silent, his father was most certainly back and clearly he had something new planned.

Vincent folded his hands before himself on the desk as he looked at Ciel, his brown eyes were brimming with curiosity. "Ciel, what do you think of New York?" he asked, his lips curling at the corners as he did so. Funtom had always looked at expanding past Europe as a whole, but to jump to New York was suicide, F.A.O Schwartz was still one of the largest and most respectable stores. There was no way they would be able to build a special store for their products and not get massacred by one of America's outstanding stores.

Ciel took a sip of tea, before responding, "I think it's a bad idea to challenge Schwartz." There was a pause before Vincent's laughter rang through the room, obviously that wasn't the plan. The Lord's laughter was far too bright for it to be, in fact he only laughed like that when he was truly relishing an idea. "No we aren't going to expand there, I have something else in mind, something rather explosive planned for America's Memorial Day," he stated.

~~xXx~~

How a person keeps their work space says a great deal about them as an individual, and the front of a restaurant says infinitely more so. The color selection, the placement of tables, whether or not there are fresh flowers on tables, the placement of hanging baskets, where the waiters hide and even the position of the case can tell a great deal about the man behind the doors of the kitchen. Time had passed a great deal since that fateful day six years ago, the two chefs had grown a great deal and learned a number of things from their encounter with one another, one such lesson was to never underestimate the opponent, no matter their appearance they always have the potential to be formidable.

To this day rumors circulated about what kind of people both chefs were. The click of black dress shoes on pavement seemed to echo. Dressed in a dark rather tight pair of jeans, which left nothing to the imagination, with a white tee hugging his chest and a black blazer over his shoulders was perhaps the last person most expected to see wandering the street of New York. He had a shoulder bag slung over his shoulder and was carrying a black umbrella with a light wooden handle. His white hair that he was known for was cut short and simple, his lavender eyes sparkled in the light as he looked about the occupied streets of the bustling concrete jungle.

The scent of flowers teased his nose as the man finally approached his destination, Le Corbeau. He chuckled at the name, knowing all too well it meant Raven. How Claude had missed that fact was a mystery to him, especially with the amount it had been in the papers. It was one of the most talked about placed in Manhattan. He slowly opened the door and hummed in approval, clearly the Patissier had done well for himself.

Instantaneously he was greeted by a waiter dress in black with an apron and tie, clearly the Patissier had done very well for himself. "Welcome to Le Corbeau, shall I lead you to a table?" asked the young man with a smile. The white haired chef nodded and smiled kindly, it was a very professional greeting, in fact it was refreshing to be treated with such a genuine respect for a patron. He followed the young man and took a seat at one of the tables. "Coffee, no nonsense," he said with ease before the waiter could ask. The young man nodded and was about to leave when Ash said, "Could you do me a favor and ask for the chef who looks as though he stuck his head in a pot of black ink to come out? Tell him Ash would like to see him." The waiter looked at him curiously before nodding once again.

A smile curled the man's lips as the waiter placed his cup of coffee before him and replied, "He'll be out soon." He looked slightly nervous and he could tell there was more to the message, he smiled knowingly and asked, "Anything else?" he arched a brow as he waited for the young man to continued. The waiter coughed in discomfort before saying, "He wanted to know if you still left the bleach in too long. It may soon go to your brain and advises against it Ash," he looked as though if he could will the floor to open up and swallow him he would.

There was silence in the restaurant, obviously none of them had heard the intriguing and intense banter often shot by the Patissier, either Sebastian had mellowed out or there was simply no one around for him to spar with. Ash was honestly hoping it was the later, he had missed sparing with the man when it came to wit. His responses were typically quick, intelligent and extraordinarily clever, much like his desserts. A laugh fell from the white haired Patissier, his eyes closed as the sound filled the space, causing the tension to fall from the room once more.

The door of the kitchen swung open loudly and standing in the doorway was one rather puzzled Patissier. He had changed a great deal since Ash had last seen him, and oddly, not in a egregious way, like a bottle of merlot Sebastian had aged rather nicely over the past six years. It was true that he could see worry lines forming from years of toil and the impending doom of his shop failing, but he could also see a new found courage, something he hadn't seen in those dark red eyes before. It was refreshing and rather appeasing to see.

Ash held his hand up in a form of an awkward wave and said slowly, "Hi." For a moment he felt like Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, as to why he drew such an odd parallel he had no idea but it was just as awkward. Sebastian looked around curiously, before settling his gaze on Ash, obviously he was looking for cameras, not that Ash could blame him. After all, every single one of their encounters had been filmed in some way.

Sebastian left his position in the doorway and walked toward the table which Ash was situated. "Ash," Sebastian greeted stiffly, his eyes still looked around curiously, "No cameras?" he asked after a moment. Ash sighed, clearly Sebastian was weary around him, even when the cameras were gone. "Nope, not a single one," he replied as he lifted the mug to his lips, the warm dark liquid caressed his tongue as he did so. Sebastian seemed to relax as he slipped into the chair across from the white haired Patissier.

He seemed apprehensive, despite the fact that Ash had aided Claude in saving him all those years ago, and had been willing to aid him in getting Claude's memories back. Yet this apprehension wasn't from weariness as much as it was from a defensive view. It was as though Sebastian were getting ready to don armor once again, and respond with fire to whatever challenge Ash laid before him. "Why are you here?" Sebastian asked after a moment, he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed dangerously as he did this, his arms crossed in a defensive and slightly defiant manor.

Six years had taught Sebastian the power of independence and the strength required for success. Those years had taught the chef lessons that Ash was sure now that the Patissier needed to learn. "I was in New York and wanted to see your shop, I had heard it was quite something and you have been breaking boundaries once again," he stated. It was the truth, he had heard a great deal about this revolutionary shop that rested atop an Old Rose Hill in Manhattan.

Yet, despite the truth in his reply, Sebastian didn't look convinced, in fact he looked more suspicious than before. "I see, you aren't intending to challenge me once again are you Ash? I thought London was enough for you, ever since you started _L'Alchimie _you haven't had a single person question you," he stated coolly. Clearly Sebastian had interpreted Ash as a threat, rather than a friend. Ash deflated in his chair as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not here to challenge you, I wanted to see your shop, I miss working with you," he stated.

The Patissier before him seemed to relax as a lazy smile curved his lips, obviously Sebastian hadn't really wanted to challenge him once again either. "Good, sorry to come off cross. It's just, I already ran into Claude and I really am not interested in my old life catching up to me," he stated softly. Ash watched with fascination as the air about the Patissier lightened and the man sagged. He had seen the cake from Lucius' party, it was certainly something, and by merely glancing in the case he could tell Sebastian had been giving the other Patissier in Manhattan a run for their business.

Claude had been a soft spot of Sebastian's from day one, at least since Ash had known the young Patisser. "What happened?" he asked slowly, testing the waters as he went. From the very tone Sebastian used he knew something had gone wrong. The raven haired man leaned on the table, his chin rested in his palm as he did so, and for that brief moment Sebastian looked like a man and not a god. It was strange how many people saw the genius inside the chef but not the mortality of him, he was after all a mere mortal just like the rest.

"He remembered," replied the Patissier.

One sentence was all it took and Ash understood. The white haired Patissier waited quietly for the man to continue, knowing all too well that Sebastian needed a moment to compose his thoughts. "I was so convinced that he would remain oblivious to my existence and eventually forget me, that I never thought he would return," he said softly, his voice cracked in agony as he said so. Ash frowned as he listened to the Patissier slowly fall apart. For a moment he was happy the shop was empty, aside from the employees. He glanced over to the counter, expecting them to be watching with glee.

Only to discover there wasn't a single one present, all of them were in the back, to give the patissier space. It was usual to see this level of respect for an employer, there was usually one chef who couldn't stand him, and yet no one did. "I clung to his memory, believing that he would never come, the odds were one million to one," he whispered sadly. Ash slowly reached across the table and swept his fingers over Sebastian's forearm. The Patissier's head, which had been cradled in his hands lifted as he slowly lowered a hand and accepted Ash's touch graciously.

Sympathy, it wasn't an emotion Ash was known for, in fact, very few would accust him of being sympathetic, and yet for this very unique chef he would allow his guard down. He had seen the scars of abuse, watched the man before him fight a losing battle with pride and read the young man's file, courtesy of his sister's files, prior to their disappearance. Sebastian's arms were thicker than they had been when they met, he actually looked as though he were the proper weight and even had muscle, a thought that put Ash's mind partially at ease.

Tears welled in the eyes of the Patissier, they fell softly down his cheeks, leaving trails in their wake. Ash felt his chest constrict at the man's expression, it hurt dearly. "Hey, it's okay, have you spoken with Ronald or William?" asked the white haired Patissier softly. The Sommelier and former Head Waiter had been his greatest allies and most trusted friends, or at least that was what Ash thought them to be. "No, I haven't called them yet, I've been busy with a wedding cake," he replied softly.

Ash nodded knowingly, wedding cakes were tall orders, and one of their most lucrative. "Just the Bride's cake?" asked Ash. Sebastian shook his head and Ash grimaced, "Groom's Cake as well," he said softly. The Groom's cake was a tradition famous in Europe, the cake was supposed to represent the groom and was served along side the masterpiece of the major cake. The piece was often crafted as a joke or in memory of an event. These were often more creative than the main attraction, and far more complex.

For Sebastian that kind of cake was up his alley, after all _Le Corbeau_ wasn't a shop where he made dreams reality, it was one in which he crafted the things individuals dreamed. In this shop he made the world seem brighter, an individual's need for love, passion, and sweetness in life was fulfilled. Within these four walls Sebastian made complexities look simple, and there was elegance to his technique, an ingenuity in his vision that made even Ash himself question his abilities.

"I see, how's it coming along?" Ash asked curiously, he knew Sebastian's job had become easier since he had a number of associates under him currently. Associates were often a gift and a curse, a gift because they offered a chef an outlet for jobs that they often didn't have time to do themselves and allowed them to focus on more complex techniques. Yet, they were a curse as well, since it wasn't uncommon for them to make a mistake, they were younger in years after all and less experienced in nature.

Sebastian swiped his tears away with the side of his hand before responding, "Beautifully, it's a three dimensional treble and bass clef entwined," he replied with a shrug. Ash's jaw fell as he looked at the man before him, knowing all too well that kind of cake was far more complex than he was leading on. "I see, well it's certainly a good thing they chose you're shop," he stated with a lopsided grin, after all at _Le Corbeau_ the sky was the limit.

The patissier chuckled before nodding, "Yes I suppose it is, would you like to see the kitchen? I could use another pair of eyes on this cake," he said nervously. Ash could tell Sebastian wanted to talk a little more, but needed something to occupy his hands. Even during the short period of time Ash had worked with Sebastian he could tell the Patissier was only comfortable in the kitchen. "Of course," he said with a small warm smile, it was the most encouragement he could offer the patisser.

Together they walked into the kitchen and Ash felt his breath being stolen by the kitchen, Sebastian had clearly been the winner. He felt dwarfed by the sheer amount of space, ovens lining the walls, the ranges were clean, and the work spaces were all being used. It was honestly a playground for someone with their occupation. "Let's get to work," said Sebastian with a smirk, obviously he could read the chef's thoughts, that smirk said it all.

~~xXx~~

There was always something happening in NYC, that's what made it such an interesting place to live. Currently Social Networking had exploded thanks to Sebastian's cake and Claude's return to the spotlight, not to mention Lucius Faustus establishing his stranglehold on the banking world. Lucius looked at his mobile and hummed, he was being tweeted non stopped over Claude's reappearance, however that wasn't what interested him. It was the fact that none of them were even remotely aware of Claude's text to him. He hummed as he tapped the phone on his lower lip, Claude was making a daring move, and the fact that he would ask such a favor of him was radically different from his typically behavior.

He turned his mobile on once again and looked at the message, Claude was asking for help getting Sebastian back, particularly a position at Faustus International Banking. Prior to this, he would have leapt at the chance of having his son back at the helm, and ready to assume the position of CEO, however, this felt too forced. The CEO was well aware that he was but a weak mortal man, an old one at that, but didn't want to hand Claude his Empire if his son wasn't interested. He hummed as he waited for the young man, he had asked for Claude to join him for lunch, this was something to discuss in person, not a text.

His phone rang loudly calling his attention to it, he had expected to see Claude's number only to see Diederich's. He hummed as he picked it up, "Diederich, what can I do for you?" he asked. He listened to the German speak in haste, his eyes widening as he did so and he paused, he owned banks, what Vincent proposed was going to take more than that. "You do realize you are going to need sponsors for this, right?" he asked, "On top of venues, transportation, resources, not to mention the massive amount of funding."

Lucius was silent as he listened to Vincent step in, the rather enigmatic noble sounded oddly rejuvenated, the golden eyed CEO had long been accustomed to the broken man, that to have him sound like his former self was a shock. It was as though something had kindled the man's will to live, and that something was a certain game that clearly wasn't over. Obviously Vincent had gotten a card and being such an avid player of complex games he was, the Lord couldn't resist. "Vincent, you are talking hundreds of thousands here," he began only to realize there was one person he could try. The last person who would ever want to hear from him, "Actually I know someone who can. No don't I need to talk to her myself, there's no point in running," he stated.

Claude slowly entered his office, his eyes lingered on Lucius' phone and he hummed, there was no point in attempting to play his own son. "Look, I have to go, I'll contact you later. Just let me see if she's even interested in helping me," he stated before hanging up. Lucius hung his head for a moment as he carded his finger through his hair, this wasn't the afternoon he had planned, not in the slightest. "Dad?" asked Claude curiously.

The elder Faustus looked up at his son, "Claude, you wouldn't happen to know a chair of hotels around the world that would be happy to put up with the insane plans of a nobleman would you?" he asked nervously. His son stared at him as though he had lost his mind, then again, the request sounded irrational. He sighed as Claude glared at him, clearly he wasn't amused. Lucius tipped his head back and in a rather uncouth manner groaned, "I can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled.

Claude straightened up in the chair and asked indignantly, "Do I look as connected as you? Just ask a client." Lucius sighed as he looked at his mobile, he knew he would have to give in and call her, he just hoped she would pick up the phone. He hadn't told her of Claude's accident, he had done his best to keep it a secret, in fact, he hadn't told her a word about his growing up. She wanted nothing to do with him, it hurt but it was the truth. He was a fling, nothing more. "What aren't you saying?" asked Claude after a moment, obviously his turbulent internal monologue had managed to reach his face.

Lucius looked up at his son and sighed, "Let's just say you have your raven to chase and I have mine," he stated as he picked up his mobile. Before Claude could even comprehend what was being said Lucius said smoothly, "Cal, it's Lucius. No don't hang up the phone, this is a business call." Cal was her secretary, for the past fifteen plus years she had run interference for the woman he had chased for years. He had never met the woman, but knew Cal was as tough as nails. He closed his eyes for a moment and just as he was about to hang up he heard it. "Hello Mister Faustus," she intoned.

Suddenly a look of recognition crossed Claude's features as he asked, "Put her on speaker?" Lucius shook his head, it was taking every drop of his resolve to not give into his son, he knew he wanted to meet her, "Do you mind if I put you on speaker?" asked Lucius slowly. There was a snort from the other end of the line, "Are you with him? Claude," she spat the name as though it were toxic. Lucius looked over at Claude, his heart hurt, no matter how tough he was on the chef or how hard he pushed for Claude to take his place, he never treated him like that. He still loved him.

"Yes," he replied softly, Claude looked hopeful but he knew the woman on the other end all too well. She would never consent to it, she was after all still angry Lucius had asked to keep the young man, she had wanted to send him to an orphanage. "No, then. What do you want, I have a plane to catch," she snarled.

Lucius flinched that tone wasn't the one he had fallen for, it was harsh, "Ms. Fairchild, I have a business proposition for you, a very lucrative one. A friend of mine Lord Phantomhive, will be sending you a file with details," he stated rapidly, knowing all too well she was quick to hang up on him. She paused, he could hear her contemplating her answer, of course she would be, after all she didn't want him within shouting distance. "How lucrative?" she asked after a moment. Lucius hummed as he held his hand up to pause Claude, "Very, it will increase your business at least ten fold, perhaps more, especially since you unveil your new resort soon," he replied.

Of course he knew of her newest project, but the building he had dreamed of was never built. He had the rendering in his office, they hung on the wall in a beautiful frame. The blueprints were stashed in a vault below the building, it was the last thing she ever gave him. The building was entitled Kingfisher, it had a sweeping silver wisp that wrapped around the structure, holding the glass in place and finished at the top like a wing. It was supposed to be his building for his banking capital of the world. It was called Kingfisher simply because she was inspired by the bird's wings. It was his favorite of all of them, she had won a competition with it in college and the plan was to commission the building as a bank, where it could live for an eternity, tall and proud.

That would never happen now, not after everything that had happened. "I'm interested, have the email sent," she said quickly before hanging up. Lucius held the phone there dumbly for a moment before mumbling, "Have a safe flight." He drew a deep breath as he beat back the agony that was threatening to overtake him, somewhere along the way he had placed the mobile on the table and was wringing his hands. He didn't have the confidence to look up at Claude, how could he. He had been beaten back by the woman he loved.

He hung his head in shame, he had told Claude to chase Sebastian to the ends of the earth and yet here he sat, avoiding his love. He wanted his son to have happiness, joy and light, to never know the ugly truth of his mother. A woman who didn't want him, someone who had loved Lucius until one night he had been misunderstood. "Dad?" asked a soft voice from across the table, it was laced with concern. The elder Faustus looked up at Claude and asked, "Yes?"

Claude leapt from his seat and rounded the table to crouch before his father, "What?" asked the elder as he looked at the concerned expression his son's face. He hated that look, he had seen it far too often when Sebastian was involved, it was painful to see on someone so young. "You're crying," observed Claude before he rose and wrapped his arms awkwardly around his father. "Hush," murmured Claude, as ridiculous as the notion of the powerful Lucius Faustus being comforted by his son would look to his enemies, Lucius knew all too well Claude was the only person left for him. He wrapped his son's coat and whispered, "I'm so sorry, I wish I was stronger."

Lucius felt Claude's arms tighten and wondered if it was another Faustus trait, that they loved people that were so strong that it hurt to do so. He was about to say more when Claude's mobile rang. "Answer it," rasped the elder. Claude reluctantly pulled away and answered the rather irritating device. He watched an expression of bewilderment sweep across his son's face, it was a pleasant sort that made it humorous to watched his son tilt his head to the side and ask, "Are you sure it wasn't someone else?"

Another paused, "Alright, well do me a favor, leave him a note with my new mobile and address," Claude stated before hanging up. Now Lucius was intrigued, his son wasn't the type to hand his personal information to just anyone, it had taken him years to get a hold of the valuable information himself. Claude slipped his phone back into his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, "Ash has been seen at _Le Corbeau_, apparently he's here, stateside," he stated. That was news, it was strange to hear that name once again, and to learn that the white haired Patissier had gone to see Sebastian first. It really was a small world, especially since Ash seemed to always know just where he was going.

The CEO looked at Claude curiously and began to wonder if Ash somehow knew what was coming, after all he had known a bit the first time.

~~xXx~~

There's always another move, it's just figuring out what it was that puzzled Ronald. William was one of the greatest things that had happened to him, and at the same time, he wondered how the elite Sommelier decided to stay with him. They were married, and that had been quite the affair, since Harold wasn't thrilled. The only advantage was the fact that William didn't have family, it was strange to state, but the truth. The only people who had attended their wedding were Claude, Alois and oddly the Undertaker. It had been pure magic that day.

Yet, now, he felt as though he were floating away, drifting further and further from the man who had stolen his heart. Ronald huffed as he looked out the window, William had decided to get them lunch, and it was their normal routine. William usually went to get lunch and Ronald would keep an eye on the shop. He felt his stomach sink as he thought about William leaving him, and just as he was about to say something the chimes of the shop sounded. He looked up to see a man walking in with a FedEx box.

He paused and looked at the man in confusion, he would have known if there was a delivery, William would have told him. "Knox and Spears?" asked the young man in the black and purple uniform. Ronald nodded dumbly the man set the large box on the table and turned the gun to Ronald. "I need your signature," he said simply. Ronald looked at the man in confusion before finally relenting and signing the device. "Later man," called the delivery guy over his shoulder before vanishing.

"The hell?" asked Ronald as he opened the box, it was large, in fact it was nearly as tall as he was when sitting on the counter. He pulled out a box cutter from one of the drawers, with a click the blade was out and he was slicing through the tape. Nestled inside a seat of packing peanuts was a black box with SP carved into it and inlaid with gold on the lid of it. Ronald slowly pulled out the box, it was heavy and well made, at first it looked as though it were paper but he soon realized it was lacquer. His fingers slipped over the smooth finish of the box, it was as slick as glass and just as glossy. With the flick of his fingers he released a gold clasp on the side and found himself staring at a beautifully folded note card.

The young man's hands trembled like leaves in the wind as he pulled the card from the box. Written in familiar script was a simple instruction, "Remember your Lineage." He turned it over in his hand and hummed, it was far simpler than the others. He was slightly confused as he read it though, he had been under the impression that he did. After all, he had agreed to aid William in the shop. In fact, he worked as a Sommelier's assistant, it may not have been a vintner or winery owner but it wasn't as bad as it could be. He didn't want to be his father.

The door opened once again and Ronald looked up to see William with a bag in hand. "What's that?" asked the Sommelier with amusement, obviously this package wasn't planned. Ronald held the note between his fingers up to William in one hand as he removed the black silk from the top of whatever the note had been resting on. All he knew was that the contents of the box had been rather heavy.

As he did so he came face to face with the last bottle he expected to see, a beautiful 2010 Christian's Cuvee Wolffer Merlot. It was the first of a special cask, and one of the finest of them. "Is this?" he asked curiously, the bottle was easily worth $100 and he knew it. William turned his attention to the bottle and nodded, there was a look of recognition on the man's face as he gently reached into the box and pulled out the cherished bottle. "It is, and yes, I know what it means. It looks like we are being asked to do the impossible once again," he commented before placing the bottle on the counter.

Ronald eyed the bottle wearily before asking, "We're going to have to close the shop for a while aren't we?" There was one thing he knew for certain, with the appearance of that bottle it meant one person, the man who had been playing this game, certainly wasn't dead. He was very alive. There was a part of Ronald who had hoped that the masks that night were simply a joke, and nothing more, but this seemed far more serious. Especially with a bottle as rare as that one.

_**Review Replies**_

_Courtney: I couldn't resist the car, honestly it's a beautiful woman and it was something I knew Claude would love. It also paid homage to the Elise from book 1, don't worry he still has the Elise, he just couldn't resist another woman, and you know how seductive a Lotus can be. Sebastian certainly has his work cut out for him, but he's not as strong as he appears. That rather terrified chef is still there. Vincent and Diederich, you're going to see more of them and a great deal more of Ciel. Just wait. Chapter 6 is going to be something. Thanks for reviewing._

_Anonymous: Oh yes he's back, and in Black, yes poor jest to the classic AC/DC song "Back in Black" it popped up while I was writing the scene and it fit so well. Thank you for your review, I couldn't have him moping around for too long. Lucius is an interesting character and I'm happy to say you'll see more of him this time around. That Frittata scene will live in infamy, it's one of the funnier aspects of this series, I can reference those events and you'll see something never change. One of them is pan dropping when a Faustus is involved. I hope you enjoy._

_Glasses: Well let's see what Claude does next, I'm afraid you'll see more of Lucius this time, but don't worry, Chapter 6 will show you so much more of our chef. I hope you liked it and thank you for your review._


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_I wanted to take a chance to post this, I know you guys are going to be really excited with this chapter, especially since you finally find out what Vincent, Joker and Diederich have thrown together. This book is going to be even larger than the first and I hope you enjoy it. The first bottle has been added to the Wine List and take a look at the playlist I'm sure you'll see some new pieces there. _

* * *

**Chapter 6: Let's Start**

Ash sighed as he leaned against the counter; he ran his hand through his hair and looked over at Sebastian. His lavender eyes were locked on the raven haired chef, "It's been a while since we shared a kitchen," he commented. Sebastian nodded awkwardly as he looked into his cup of coffee which he had grabbed at some point, truth be told they kept minimal contact with one another; he needed to break ties in order to start his own life. Oddly the silence was welcoming, compared to what it had been like so long ago. "How's business for you?" asked Sebastian after a moment, Ash looked up and shrugged. Business was good as Sebastian had pointed out prior to this.

There was a ring of bells from the front of the shop, Sebastian placed his coffee down and went to begin his work only for the waiter to dash into the back. "Sir, you're not going to believe this," said the young man. Ash looked at the once poised waiter he had met transformed into one panic stricken. Some things never changed.

He was painting and began, "Sir, remember that man with gold eyes that you told to leave?" Sebastian was silent and paled significantly at this, there were only two people Ash knew with gold eyes, and both would only torment the Patissier. Sebastian turned on his heel quickly and strode out the door into the Dining Room, the doors slamming in his wake, for a moment Ash was certain he had just been thrown into a storm. Cautiously he left his position in the kitchen and stared at the Patissier whose arms were crossed as he glared daggers at perhaps one of the most impeccably dressed men in Manhattan.

Claude stood still in the space, he was wearing a light gray suit, with dark silver chalk lines, it was crisp and custom tailored. It outlined every single asset of the Head Chef, from his broad chest and powerful shoulders to trim waist and without a doubt well toned legs. It was paired with a crisp purple, lavender and white dress shirt, the squares were slightly larger than usual, and it had been folded with precision over the deep berry colored plum and dark violet paisley tie. As always the tie was executed with a professional Windsor knot. Peaking out of his ticket pocket was a lavender silk pocket square with hints of gold off setting his eyes and skin tone.

Ash felt his mouth dry out as he licked his lips, he hadn't seen Claude look that clean in years, quite literally. His hair was styled, the glasses were gone leaving intense golden eyes looking at them, his gaze was powerful and filled with fire. The box was under his arm as the other hand was slipped in into one of his pockets. A silver cufflink peaked out as he flattened his hand against the large brown box. It looked cumbersome and yet he made it look easy. The golden sunlight from the afternoon filtered through the windows giving him backlighting making him look more like a model than a man.

His lips were curled in a playful smirk as he said, "Hello again, Sebastian." The raven haired Patissier was at a loss for words as he looked at the Chef before him. Ash couldn't blame him, he was sure Claude had just stolen all his capacity to speak, he was absolutely lethal when he dressed in a suit and knew it. After a few moments Sebastian finally responded, "Faustus, what are you doing here?"

Surname, well it was certainly colder than Ash had known the man to be, in fact he was certain Sebastian could give even him a run for his money in the cold shoulder department. Claude wasn't fazed by this, he moved into the room with poise and held the box out to Sebastian, "The FedEx guy was just outside, I signed for it and brought it in," he stated. Merlot colored eyes narrowed with distrust as Sebastian took the package, his arms dipped as he did so, indicating one thing to Ash, Claude was a whole lot stronger than when they were dating.

Envy bubbled up in the white haired Patissier, not that he would ever admit it, but Claude could build muscle and had quite the body under that suit. It was one of the many aspects of the Chef he loved, that and Claude's sheer passion to create and innovate was more than enough to relish. "Great," Sebastian stated harshly, "So you intend to play secretary, couldn't your father teach you that? I mean he is a CEO after all." Ash was in shock as he jumped back and looked at the seething Patissier, anger radiated off the chef in waves. Sebastian pivoted and waltzed into the kitchen, carrying the box with less ease that Claude had.

The Chef sighed as he walked in after Sebastian, Ash was quick to follow, there was no way he was going to miss out on something as dramatic as this. Claude was honestly trying to win Sebastian back, and to be honest Ash was praying they could patch up this mess, as much as it hurt him to do so. "Order something?" asked Claude curiously, blatantly ignoring the glacial glare he was receiving.

An expression of confusion flickered across the crimson eyed chef's face after he finally realized the question being asked. "No," he replied hesitantly as he placed the package on the table. Sebastian straightened up and crossed his arms, his eyes roamed over the brown box, scanning for some form of evidence as to what was waiting inside it.

"Nope," Sebastian said swiftly, there wasn't a single logo on the brown box, not even a return sticker. Ash straightened up as he walked over to the box, there had to be something. His fingers slipped over the spines of it and he mused, "No label? Are you sure this was FedEx?" he asked slowly as he looked for shipping ticket. It was impossible to send something without some form of address on it, all that he could see was a barcode with the address of _Le Corbeau_ on it. Either the label had fallen off, which was nearly impossible because of how strong the glue was, or someone hadn't checked to make sure the sender put it on the box.

Claude was confused for a moment and replied, "I signed for it," as he too began to look for the label. "What's in it?" asked Ash in confusion. Sebastian quickly pulled a box cutter and looked over the rather large box. "One way to find out," he stated as he held up the silver box cutter. It glistened in the light as Sebastian held it between his two fingers.

The white haired patissier nodded and watched as Sebastian slipped the knife through the seams of the tape. Sebastian broke the box down completely, causing packing peanuts to fall out in a wave. Small Styrofoam bits fell onto the floor and covered the counter top, revealing just what had been packed inside the box. The occupants of the room froze as they came face to face with an all too familiar sight.

"No," Claude moaned and tipped his head back.

"Oh come on," groaned Ash.

"Now we know," Sebastian sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

Sitting in the middle of the once clear silver counter, at the epicenter of where the bright white Styrofoam packing peanuts erupted, was a block with a knife sticking out of it. "Just when I got over the phobia of seeing knife blocks," grumbled Ash. The all too familiar silver handle of the knife was in the air, but something told Sebastian this was different. Unlike the first blocks which were a golden birch and had the name of Funtom on it, this block was far more beautiful, it was stained a deep cherry. There wasn't a logo anywhere on it, and there was only a slot for the one knife. The blocks proud and deep cherry hue contrasted greatly against the peanuts and cool colors of the kitchen, as the silver knife stabbed into it's grasp gleamed with mystery.

Sebastian caressed the handle of the knife gently; his finger sweeping over the cold slick surface like it had the first time he had been faced with the block. The Patissier drew a deep breath as his hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade, his heart was pounding as he did so, and it was as though he were back in that dreaded arena all over again. That kitchen, where millions were watching, whispering, waiting for the knife to be plucked out of the block and the challenge to begin.

"WAIT!" shouted Ash as he held up his hands. Sebastian glared at the white haired chef and asked, "What?" The other chefs glared at the knife as though it were going to bite Sebastian and said, "As soon as you pull that knife, we won't be able to get out of this." Sebastian bit his lower lip, he knew that, yet he couldn't resist, it was a strange fascination with it. He just had to know what was on it.

"I know."

Sebastian adjusted his grip on the metal hilt and pulled the knife from the block. He could feel the weight of the blade in his hands as he did so and listened to the hum of steel. Even after six years, he could remember the feeling of pulling that dreaded first knife.

Ash sighed and mumbled, "Let the games begin."

~~xXx~~

Footsteps could be heard through every hallway, the sound of shouting from numerous individuals over the clangor of boxes being moved in and out of the structures walls. Tension was in the air as several make up artists from around the world were on the move, Beast was the chief of them. Lights were implemented, cameras placed, microphones tested and areas metered for light, it was as though the world was waking up. Standing in the eye of the storm was the familiar red head, "I can't believe he managed to put this together this fast," Joker mused as he looked at one of the art directors, she was showing him the placement of several items in the set. "Good," he stated before shooing her away.

It was as though a storm had rolled in, no one could put together something this massive in such a short period, no one, save one of the most enigmatic individuals he knew. "It is impressive," admitted a rich and cool voice, Joker turned around to find himself facing Lucius. The golden eyed CEO who had been more than happy to give him his first location. "I just finished with Ms. Fairchild, she's agreed to give us what we have requested," he stated with a hint of finality.

Joker's eyes widened in awe and bewilderment, obviously this production was going to be one of the fastest and most intricate ones put together yet. Then again this was easily accomplished when eight wealthy sponsors got together and called in their friends, the only thing he wasn't sure of was just how every single party agreed to attending an event of this magnitude. Certainly it would bring fame and possible fortune, but it seemed like a very big risk. "You guys work fast," he commented as he looked at Sasha, she was carting a rack of jackets in five colors, stone, ink black, navy blue, olive green, burnt gold and dark red. He spotted the names on the sleeves and looked at Lucius who shrugged, "Money takes you places," he supplied without further explanation.

The director merely shook his head, he was dealing with some of the richest people in the world, what didn't help was that the set was already state of the art, all his guys had to do was set up. "It's terrifying just how much you guys have accomplished," he commented Lucius was about to say something when Joker's phone rang. He scowled as he pulled it out and looked at the screen only for him to notice a text, "Packages? I didn't send Packages," he stated. He looked at Lucius who shrugged, only for several text to be fired his direction, each of them with three people holding up a chef's knife.

Vincent had told him he had selected the chefs and was sending an invitation, he didn't know it was going to be another knife. "Guy's we're on! The Knives have been sent out!" he shouted to the crew, "We have a go people, I want you at the locations filming!" he shouted. It was nice enough of Vincent to send a list of locations in advance, his fingers swept over the screen as he typed out a message to Vincent. "The knives are a cool idea, wish he told me," Joker remarked as he hit send. Lucius hummed and nodded, obviously he wasn't included in the loop either. Now all they had to do was wait for their arrival.

He paused for a second and looked at the images he had been sent. There were only four, which made little sense, considering there were five different color jackets, for what he assumed were teams. "Who's on the fifth team?" he asked in confusion, part of him was hoping to see Sebastian back, and at the same time he didn't. The talented raven haired patissier had been through enough the first time, as had Ash. Joker shook himself, it just meant the fifth team was a wildcard, something he had grown accustomed to over the years. It was something a number of producers did to ensure drama, which meant he wouldn't know who they were until their arrival.

What really amazed him wasn't the fact that they were currently awakening but that this time, there were even more people involved. Before he could go and check on his status with the camera men he noticed Ronald and William arriving with crates of wine and a knife block being rolled in. The game was certainly on.

~~xXx~~

Sebastian flipped the blade in his hands and stared at it. The silver blade's engraving was radically different compared to those from the competition six years ago, written in script was an address, rather than an ingredient. JRA it read and just below it was the address West 30th Street. Ash's eyes narrowed curiously and Sebastian asked, "What is it?" Claude held his hand out for the knife, his eyes were on the blade curiously as he did so, Sebastian huffed as he placed it in Claude's hand. "It's a 24/7 helipad, my father uses this one," he said slowly, he turned the blade over and stared, "What the hell?" he asked.

Both Patissiers stared at Claude for a moment, the chef sighed as he turned the blade around, obviously Sebastian hadn't seen the other lines of script on the blade. It was small, elegant and wasn't painted but engraved.

:

_**Master Patissier of Le Corbeau, Sebastian Michaelis**_

_**Master Patissier of L' Alchemie, Ash Landers**_

_**Former Head Chef of Noir, Claude Faustus**_

The three chefs looked at one another as well as the list of names, before it was every man for themselves and now it was for not only Sebastian but Ash and Claude as well. Sebastian slipped into a stupor as Ash shouted, "_Merde_, just when my life started making sense!" Once again the three were being tossed into something absolutely crazy. Claude continued looking at the blade and looked at the black spine. "Strange, why does the knife have a black spine, all the others had silver," Claude mused as he examined it.

Ash huffed and crossed his arms, "How the fuck would I know?" he seethed. Sebastian was snapped from his stupor as he listened to the other Patisiser, no matter what happened he had never heard Ash curse. His lavender eyes fell on a furious patissier, his red eyes held a glint of anger in them as his fingers balled themselves into fists.

Claude held his hands up innocently after placing the knife on the table, "Look I don't know what's going on, why don't we just head to the location and see what's going on," he said simply. His shoulders lifted casually as he flipped the knife in his fingers and slipped it into the block.

Sebastian stared at Claude curiously, it was an idea, they could always decline once they arrived. He glanced over only to see Ash was looking less than amused, in fact if looks could kill he was sure Sebastian's would. The raven haired patissier nodded, his fingers swept over his face as he tucked a long strand of black hair away and added, "Besides, you never know, it could be some publicity event that could drum up a ton of business." Sebastian held up a finger as he said this as though he were pointing out the fact in the air, lavender eyes rolled before Ash folded his arms across his chest, "Look I have more than enough business, I'm not interested in some kind of stunt," he stated.

Claude grit his teeth as he looked at Ash his gold eyes were filled with irritation, obviously Ash hadn't noticed this. Claude was always working to keep his restaurant a success and yet Ash dismissed it as a basic fact, rather than it being a fundamental concept that could change whether or not a restaurant was a success. He slipped his hands into his pockets, causing the vents of his suit jacket to crinkle before responding, "I don't care what you think, I'm going to show the world we've still got it," Claude's voice was harsh as he spoke, and Ash winced, "Even if it's as simple as a barbeque I'm willing to work with it, because I know we can rock it. I don't care if it's publicity, hell it's publicity that keeps the shop alive."

The raven haired Patissier heaved a sigh, this wasn't his idea of a relaxing afternoon but he would admit it was an entertaining one. Especially when he considered the fact that he hadn't seen Ash for six years and Claude had only appeared a few days ago. He rubbed his temples as a powerful migraine began to form, Ash was being difficult and part of him was wondering just why the knife had been sent. The game ended six years ago, or so he thought.

Sebastian looked at Claude, he had once trusted this man with his life, and even now he knew the Chef wouldn't lead him astray. Even though he desired to prove he was stronger, he had a feeling that if he didn't attempt this Claude would never see this. "Let's go, Ash if you're going to mope then stay, I want to see what this is about," he commented as he slipped out of chef's jacket and walked into his office. Deftly he grabbed his blazer and slipped it on. He wrapped the deep plum scarf on and walked out of his office.

Sophie stared at him in confusion, "Sir?" she asked curiously as she looked at the three. Sebastian smiled warmly as he tossed her the keys, "You're in charge, lock up when your done, I'm off to check out a venue," he stated. The small brunette caught the keys effortless, nodding timidly after doing so. She had never been left with such a responsibility, and at that second looked more like a deer at the headlights than anything else. A chuckled slipped his lips as he flashed her a confident smile, "My dear I'm sure you'll be alright, just stick with the recipes," he stated, "Besides nearly all the prep work is done, just don't burn anything."

Sophie nodded numbly as Sebastian swept out of the kitchen, Claude had already vanished, leaving Ash gaping in his kitchen. The raven haired Patissier sighed, even if Claude annoyed him, his curiosity had been piqued which meant there was no way he would be able to keep away from this. Something told him what ever was going to happen was going to be well worth the adventure. Six years ago he had made the crazy decision to accept Ash's challenge, and he landed on top, this time he was going to be the one to initiate it.

He walked out of the restaurant and paused, leaning against a black Porsche Panamera. A smirk curled his lips sinfully, he looked just as he had the day Sebastian met him. That smirk that managed to shatter his world, "So, I take it you're going," Claude stated. For a moment the figured leaning on the car looked invincible, just as the man he had loved so long ago had. "Yes, my name was on the knife too," Sebastian reasoned, he reached for the door of the Posche only for Claude to step in front of him, blocking his hand.

Golden eyes fell on Sebastian, they were familiar, filled with pride and courage. He felt as though he were looking at the past in the present, only this time he had been hurt by the chef in question. "Claude," warned Sebastian, his tone was sharp only for the chef to open the door. Claude averted his gaze to the pavement as Sebastian slipped into the back seat. The Patissier watched silently as the door closed and Ash waltzed out of his shop, he looked irritated but clearly had given, since it would be rather obscene to reject and invitation, especially one of his standing in the world of pastries.

The chef didn't open the door for the other man as he rounded the car and got in the passenger seat, only for Claude to join them in the car a few moments later. "I can't believe I'm doing this," growled Ash as Claude started the car and began driving through the city. He ignored the numerous snarky comments the white haired Patissier made along the way. Sebastian watched the chef's knuckles turn white as he gripped the black steering wheel in an attempt to prevent himself from pulling over and strangling the Patissier across from him.

Traffic rolled by as Claude turned down a street, at the end of the dock was a pad with a helicopter on it, it was white and blue with the letters FIB on it and a long identification number on the side. It was a rather large helicopter, the blades were rotating and air seemed to split in half as they spun, clearly they were ready to take off. Claude slipped out of the car with grace, only to be met by a stout man. He was balding and had a pair of cool gray eyes with a large pair of circular glasses on his nose. "Thanks," said Claude as he handed the man the keys and walked over to the helicopter.

Sebastian trotted to keep up, the gusts created by the rotors splitting the air were powerful and swept his hair everywhere. He felt as though he would be blown away if he wasn't attentive enough. Ash didn't seem to struggle as much as he was, which was honestly a clear indicator that this wasn't the first time that Ash had been on a helicopter, in fact it was a great hint into the white haired man's past. It was at that moment Sebastian realized that he had walked into was radically different from the one he had been born into.

He ducked under the blades as he felt the wind beat against his ear drums, he looked up as he entered the massive helicopter, the doors were open and Claude was leaning out of it with his hand extended. "COME ON!" he shouted over the rotors. His long fingers were extended out to Sebastian, an invitation to step into his world, just like it had been when he had taken Sebastian to the tailor and dressed him to impress. Hesitantly he took a step into the helicopter, part of him hoped that he would be able to walk away, while the other half of him knew for certain that he wouldn't be able to. This time he was going to be trapped in this man's world.

Ash was sitting across from them, strapped into a seat with a pair of green cans on. His eyes were closed and he crossed his legs, one foot bobbing impatiently in the air as he waited for Sebastian to finally enter the helicopter. He took a seat beside the impeccably dressed Claude and paused, the world was changing faster than he could ever hope to keep up with. The chef pointed to a pair of cans and said, "PUT THEM ON." Sebastian buckled himself in and slipped them over his head, they were actually more comfortable than they looked.

Claude smiled as he looked at the pilot who was situated in front of Ash, Claude reached in his breast-pocket to pull out a pair of silver framed aviators with pitch black lenses. He slipped them over his nose before putting on his cans. "Welcome aboard Mister Faustus," cracked a voice through them and Claude smiled warmly. The outside door slammed closed as the ground official closed it and ran away from the platform, Sebastian watched the man in the bright orange vest vanish from sight. Vaguely Sebastian heard the pilot conversing with a tower only to realize that was the sign that they were leaving the ground. Sebastian felt the helicopter lift off the ground slightly before the pilot fully engaged the rotors and began to build altitude.

His eyes widened as he watched the dock slowly grow smaller and smaller as the helicopter climbed in the sky, he heard its blades slice through the air. The helicopter leaned forward slightly as the pilot guided it through the sky, from the air the island of Manhattan looked like a work of art. Glass, concrete, and steel are striving to touch the sky, none of them managing to do so since they had been tethered to the ground. Yet, in the helicopter they could ride the wind, it was a thrill. His eyes were locked on the views outside the windows.

Just when Sebastian thought the sky was the limit it turned out it wasn't, in fact, it was simply the beginning. They passed over a large bridge as they began making it across the Long Island Sound. The blue waters were filled with yachts and ferries moving back and forth as they drew even closer to the strip of land known as Long Island. He could see the bright beaches and lively trees from the air, pools of crystal blue water dotted the landscape as houses that looked as though they had been pulled out of magazines covered the landscape. Perfect models of what the rich and elite considered houses, others saw as palaces.

Crimson eyes were filled with wonder as the helicopter turned toward a massive estate. Rising out of the ground was a pearl white mansion with slate gray roof tops and copper lightning rods. His jaw dropped as he admired the elegant French Baroque gardens, the masonry of the mosaics in them and even the pond. The mansion was massive even from the air, "Welcome back to Shadow Pond Mister Faustus," said the pilot.

Sebastian's head whipped around as he gaped openly at the man before him, Claude was smirking, it was impossible to see his eyes through the black shades but his head made it look as though he were looking through the windshield. "Nathaniel, let's give our guests a warm welcome," he instructed. Sebastian looked over to see the pilot grinning with glee as he turned the helicopter and dipped downward, "Or course sir," he replied stiffly.

Sebastian glanced at Claude in confusion until he felt the helicopter descend so closely to the trees and shrubs he could see them getting whipped by helicopter rotor driven winds. The once serene ponds were filled with ripples as they flew overhead, the once vertical plumes of water from the fountains were blasted out of shape, and his eyes widened as he got an even closer look at the mansion. It wasn't one, it was a grand castle, complete with tennis courts and what looked like a solarium.

It's towers erupted from the earth, the looked as though they were made of pearls, the windows had been cleaned to perfection. The flagstones lining the courtyard were a beautiful slate blue, several high end sports cars had been parked in the courtyard and he noticed a number of people pointing at the helicopter as it rounded the castle. Sitting in the back of the house was stretch of lawn, without hesitation the pilot began to touch down. The blades roared as Sebastian felt the wheels touch down before finally settling. "I thought it was illegal to land in someone's back yard," said Sebastian in confusion, he had heard the flight laws had changed greatly since 9/11.

Ash paused and looked at Claude, obviously he hadn't known the change in law until then. Sebastian watched as Claude pulled the cans off and hung them on a hook, he ran his fingers through his hair propping it back up to life, before responding, "It is, unless you have the money my father does." Sebastian and Ash looked at one another as Claude stepped out of the helicopter he kept his head low as he did so and didn't even look back to see if they had followed.

Sebastian jumped out of the helicopter, his shoes hit the manicured green lawn soundlessly as he walked in behind Claude. His eyes were assaulted by the elegance of the castle, it's cream walls and bright whites. Ash stumbled into the room behind him bumped into him as he did so. "Sorry," breathed Ash, "Holy shite! Claude just how rich is your family?"

"Extremely," he replied the same man from the helipad appeared before him holding a note out to Claude. Sebastian was about to ask how he had managed to beat them back, it was impossible to do so, considering they had flown there. "Welcome home, Master Claude," he intoned as he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. Claude gently took the piece of golden stationery from Dieter, it looked as though it were second nature for him to do this as he unfolded. His eyes scanned over it with ease before he looked to Dieter and with a single glance dismissed him.

Sebastian was frozen, he really had entered another world this time, one in which Claude had lived in and at that moment he realized he was standing in perhaps one of the most expensive houses, "Welcome to the Hamptons, Sebastian, it's a whole other world out here," he said simply as he folded the piece of stationary up and slipped it into his breast pocket. He couldn't seem to find a response as he watched Claude walk through a pair of double doors, his shoes clicking on the highly polished floors as he moved. All Sebastian could seem to do was scramble to keep up.

The walls were lined with antiques on display, portraits, plants and various other items. He felt as though he had stepped into the Estate of an English Lord. Yet Claude didn't slow his pace, it wasn't until then he realized just what Claude had been called, they acted as though he were the son of the castle's owner, which meant one thing. Before he could say more they were standing in a beautiful study, the walls were covered from floor to ceiling to books. Wooden panels and floors had been polished to perfection. There was a desk sitting before several windows.

Sitting on the edge of a beautiful mahogany desk, sitting resolutely before the windows, with light flooding the room was an all too familiar figure. He had broad shoulders and dark hair, with a pair of golden eyes which looked strikingly like his son's. He had an ankle folded over one knee and was tossing a gold and black ball carelessly in the air. A smile curled his lips as he said, "I see you got my invitation, I'm afraid there's been a change in plan Sebastian."

The Patissier was silent as he watched the owner of the opulent castle, catch the orb once more, the sound of the fine metals hitting his palm seemed to echo in the emptiness of the room. "I have a proposition for the three of you," he said with ease as he placed the orb on the table, "but first," he began his gaze shifting from the top of his desk to the three men standing before him, as though he were looking at applicants for a job, "I would like you to say hello to the Masters of Ceremonies."

Ash, Claude and Sebastian looked at one another, "Pardon, but what ceremonies?" asked Sebastian softly, he felt awkward asking the question, especially since Lucius was quite literally one of the most powerful people in the room. The doors swung open to the office and a lush voice replied, "We will answer that." All three chefs snapped to attention and looked at the trio in the doorway.

Standing in the threshold of Lucius' study were the last three people they expected, Lord Vincent Phantomhive, Ciel Phantomhive and Lord Diederich von Wolff. The three were dressed in suits, they were poised and glided into the room with the grace of a dancer. Now Sebastian knew just what was going to happen, they were about to be drawn into another game. "Hello Ash, Sebastian and Claude," greeted Vincent with a smile that seemed to light up the room. It was apparent at that moment the games were going to begin and they were about to be thrown into the madness of Vincent Phantomhive.

~~xXx~~

The castle was enormous and it was as though the maids had been instructed to polish each and every surface, since they gleamed brilliantly whenever the lights from the stage hit them. While the hallways were set up in a similar manner to a maze, it wasn't difficult for Vincent to find his way through them to Lucius' Study, it did help that he had been there years before. Oddly that blueprint in his memory was still present as he walked through the hallways, what made it different was that this time it was Diederich and Ciel with him.

Chocolate brown eyes narrowed as he pushed the doors open, he had just heard Sebastian ask a question and quickly opened the doors. There was no better entry than that, "We will answer that," he interrupted as he strode into the room. Lucius seemed to relax slightly as the Lord entered; then again it had been Vincent's idea of just how wild to go. Standing before the desk were the three chefs he had come to know and admire.

Ash was dressed in darker colors than usual, gone was the long hair he observed, it had been cropped short, which oddly made him look more grown up than before with his boyish long locks. Sebastian on the other hand had turned into a very beautiful man, he had decided to grow his hair out and from what he could tell he looked more like a painting than an actual man. It didn't help that his eyes were still a resilient color, they gleamed in the light, time had been kind to the raven haired man. Finally there was Claude, he was polished and looked timeless, oddly when seeing the pair of Faustus men together Vincent realized just how similar they looked.

"Hello Ash, Sebastian and Claude," he greeted as he swept into the room, he flashed a charming smile as he did so. There was no point in scaring them off, not after he had managed to get them there. They had been the last to receive their knife and the last to respond to the invitation. He stood before one of Lucius white sofas and gestured for them to sit, Lucius opted to continue leaning against his desk. Not that he could blame the man, he had been sitting all morning and no doubt was stiff from sitting so long. Claude was the first to sit, and then Ash and finally Sebastian on the end, the furthest from Claude.

Vincent looked at the pair in confusion for a moment, they should have been rejoicing since they were back together, perhaps things weren't as rosy as he had assumed. "You probably have a bunch of questions, just wait until the end," Vincent stated as he leaned back against the sofa, "Now then, we were approached by the BTN to put together another series of challenges to determine just who the top chef is."

All three culinary minds were silent, they each looked intruded by this comment, obviously none of them had missed the fact that their names had been listed on the same knife. "However, we felt that it shouldn't be an individual this time, but a group. So we invited five teams of three chefs from several countries around the world to compete," Ciel supplies as Vincent flickered through several pages in a black leather portfolio. He could feel their gaze on him, it was intense to be under it, then again they had changed a great deal since their initial meeting so many years ago.

He held the pages out to the three as he continued, "There will be seven challenges," Claude seemed to be the only one interested in the paperwork, as he collected it from Vincent's hands. The Lord smiled as the younger Faustus began looking it over, obviously his father had taught him well as he read through the contracts. "Each challenge will focus on a specific ingredient or concept, sometimes it will be a knife and others they will be boxes at your stations. You will be judged as a group rather than individuals, the goal is to prove that it isn't a single chef that makes a kitchen what it is but several," Vincent explained he folded his hands in his lap and crossed his legs, a smiled playing on his lips before he continued, "At the end of each challenge you will be asked to solve a riddle, it will either involve the ingredients you used, something in a mystery box or card. Based on the reply you will move to the next level."

Ash was the first to speak, "What about our shops?" he asked fiercely. Vincent was unfazed by the man's tone as he turned his attention to him, "What about them?" he asked as he arched an elegant white brow. Vincent smiled as he looked over to his son, who immediately had his tablet out and turned it to Ash, "It will be left to your Sous-chefs and any orders destroyed will be covered by us," Ciel stated, "We take responsibility for taking you out of your kitchens and your sponsors will compensate you accordingly."

Claude held up a hand to halt Ciel, before asking, "What's the job of a sponsor?" Vincent smiled, only Claude would think to ask that question, after all it was one of the major elements of this game. Vincent hummed as he shifted slightly, "Due to the nature of just how large this game is, we thought it best for each team to have a sponsor. Your sponsor is Lucius Faustus, no it's not against the rules, a number of sponsors are related to one of the team members," he stated before Claude could even question the legality of such a claim.

Sebastian hummed as he held a hand out for a copy of the contract he looked at it slowly, "Just what kind of teams are they?" he asked as he looked at the document. Even if Sebastian wasn't a law student Vincent was impressed that he was able to determine that this wasn't as simple as he had lead on. "International. Germany, France, Japan, Italy and finally the United States and United Kingdom. We paired the United States and United Kingdom together because you two are the alumni of the original and we wanted to include Claude as a chef," explained Vincent.

Silence filled the room as the three chefs looked at the document's before them, Vincent internally began panicking, all the other chefs had jumped on board, yet these three were waiting. If he couldn't get them to compete they would lose viewers and a number of chefs would drop out before the lineup could even be announced. He had to pull this off, Joker was gambling with this, the last time had been a fluke since a number of shows attempted to follow in their footsteps but failed badly.

There was a click that split the air, causing his head to snap up. He watched intently as Sebastian tossed the page to the table, the flutter of paper was heard as it fell on top of the glass coffee table. Resting firmly on the line asking for signature was Sebastian's endorsement. Claude was quick to follow and Ash was the last, after grudgingly stating he wasn't about to watch them mess it up.

Sitting on the table in a straight line were all three contracts, each signed with a flourish and pride. "You were the last chefs to respond, the other teams will be here over the next two days. Until then we will be doing the preliminary shoot of interviews and back-story work, since many of us haven't seen you in six years," he explained as he looked to Lucius who nodded and pushed away from the desk.

"Let's start," said the slate haired noble with a broad smile.

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_**Review Responses: **_

Courtney: Thank you for reviewing. A lot happened between Evie, and Lucius. Believe me she's very different from the woman he fell in love with and you'll learn just what happened there. Faustus men like fierce companions, and tend to get hurt, it's one of the more fun parallels in this book. Claude's not about to give up though, he's got something up his sleeve, even if Vincent's plans may have messed with it a bit, okay a lot. Ash is an interesting character, just watch I'm about to make things really fun. Ronald and William will work it out, they always do. I'm glad you liked the Lilo and Stitch parallel I just couldn't think of a better analogy.


	8. Chapter 7

_**Autor's Note: **Thank you for waiting so patiently, I can't wait to get started. I saw the film Chef and fell in love with it. So you're going to see a few dishes from the movie appear, as well as a few of my personal favorites. Don't worry you're going to enjoy it. _

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**Chapter 7: Meet the Chefs**

It was impossible for the raven haired Patissier to get sleep, his stomach was knotting after calling Sophie and telling her of what had transpired. Naturally the girl had panicked, she had a hard enough time covering Sebastian's lunch breaks, let alone a month. The others had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that they wouldn't burn down his shop, which was a small measure of comfort in itself. However, it didn't settle the butterflies that seemed to beat their wings continuously in his stomach.

Everything was happening quickly, after signing those dreaded pages of the contracts, they were whisked away into rooms, all of them top of the line and ironically placed near Claude's room which was several rooms down from the Master Bedroom. The room was a light golden color with expensive sheets and pillows, all of them covered in quality silks and linens. The bathrooms were marble and the room was expensive, now he understood why Claude's apartment looked as it had, wide spaces, a great deal of light and an ever present sense of luxury were clearly a particular favorite among the Faustus men.

The night had slipped away slowly as tension seemed to build within the walls of Shadow Pond. Every so often voices were heard as doors opened and Sebastian watched idly as people from other nations arrived. Each of them in groups looking exhausted and toting several cases with them. Some of them were laughing as they climb the stairs and conversing in their native tongue. Their footsteps echoed through the hallways as they walked out of the humid summer night and into the cool and air conditioned walls of the illustrious pearl castle.

Sebastian didn't have to know their names to know their status, the way they walked and the very knife bags they carried were more than enough of a hint. Suddenly all the words Vincent had said the day before were ringing in his ears, the Earl had taken it upon himself to spice things up just a little. Five teams of three, five teams from all over the world, and Sebastian had a sinking feeling these weren't recent graduates he was going to be faced with, they were professionals, the same caliper as himself.

The sun slowly crept into the sky as he looked over the grounds, he could feel the tension in the air as they got ready. Vincent had instructed them to go downstairs that morning at seven on the dot, so they could shoot the new intro as well as introduce themselves to one another, collect jackets and then get to work. So much to do and as always very little time to do it, his Facebook page had jumped into the stratosphere with likes and subscriptions. His twitter account was hailed with a massive number of tweets after the BTN had announced the new twist on the old game.

Everyone was excited for this match up as people speculated the teams, naturally everyone had anticipated his and Ash's involvement. Yet, no one expected Claude, he was going to wait until the officially released the names and photos. He could only imagine the roar as the chefs were announced. Claude, he had no idea how he was going to work with the chef again, for six years he was angry, frustrated and determined to prove the he was strong. He wanted to show Claude he wasn't some damsel in distress, but at the same time he wanted to remind the chef he was still vulnerable. Ever since Claude had appeared in his shop again his head was a mess, his emotions seemed to twist on their own. He still loved Claude, the plum scarf that was now laying on his bed was proof, it had been Claude's six years ago, it was the only thing he had left of the chef.

Time passed rapidly and he listened to a clock somewhere in the house chime for six, "Alright, let's get this over with," he breathed as he slipped the plum scarf around his neck and began walking down the hallway. Ash's door opened as he passed it and the white haired chef stumbled out. "Good Morning," he greeted.

Sebastian nodded only for the white haired Patissier to whistle, "Fuck man, did you get any sleep or are you masquerading as a raccoon?" Ash looked more than well rested, ever cool and collected, it was like the first time all over again, his nerves were twisting and Ash looked to be the king of ice, and unshakable chef. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the remark and went to start down the stairs, "No, I just hope Claude's got his ass out," he began only to see Claude looking up at them a few steps away, he looked confused and slightly relieved, "of bed," Sebastian finished.

Claude smiled warmly, he was dressed in a linen shirt with a pair of slacks and boat shoes on. The sleeves had been rolled up showing off his tanned arms, they were thinner than he remembered, causing a ping of pain to occur in his chest. The crimson eyed patissier began to mentally pray that wasn't caused by him, but he had an idea that it most likely was. "Good morning to you too, I'll show you to the kitchen," Claude said simply as he turned around with ease and walked back down the stairs. With each step he moved with the kind of grace only a true scion had, then again, he was Lucius' heir.

The two followed Claude mindlessly out onto the patio where a long table had been set up, there were six other people sitting at it, chatting and drinking coffee. They seemed to freeze when Dieter opened the door for Claude and greeted, "Good morning, sir," as he bowed slightly. This resulted in a rather unnerving blanket of silence to rest on top of them, it was stifling and for a moment Sebastian wondered if it was possible to suffocate without the assistance of another party or object.

Claude took a seat as the end of the table, his eyes fell on the plate before him and the cup that had been filled with black coffee. Ash followed suit as though it were second nature and raked his fingers through his white hair, "Dieter, I would like a cup of Earl Gray," he said simply with a charming smile. Sebastian was surprised to watch the man in question retrieve a fine bone china cup and produce the desired tea without complaint. Sebastian sat across from Claude and looked at his plate, obviously their private chef had decided to whip up breakfast.

"Looks like the young master is back," grumbled a rather gruff voice from the other side of the table. Sebastian looked up and stared at a blonde man with brilliant blue eyes, he had chiseled features and was broad shoulders, he looked rather intimidating. His German accent was so thick Sebastian was sure he could cut through it with a knife if he so desired. Sebastian watched as a young woman elbowed him and hissed something in the language. Her hair was dirty blonde, a pair of green eyes was narrowed in a glare at the man as she did this, and her lips were fuller than most women's. He didn't seem fazed and glared at Sebastian as though he were an insect, he hummed and shook his head, it wasn't the first time he had received that look and clearly it wouldn't be the last.

There was another young man off to the side of her, he had a head of brown hair and nearly black eyes. He was slender, not as defined in the face either and had his hair was spiked in a number of directions. The young chef looked more like a zombie than human as he yawned loudly and rubbed the back of his neck as though he were sore. He didn't look like he slept well either, which made Sebastian feel a little better.

Sitting across from the three Germans, was a trio of Japanese Chefs, they were smaller than the Germans, physically but just as intimidating. The team consisted of a pair of women, who were identical from hairstyle to eye color. The were pale and had a pair of rather small lips, the two of them had striking almond shaped gray eyes that looked more silver than they did blue. They had ink black hair that was tied up in hair sticks and sat so still, they could be mistaken as dolls. The pair were rather tall but elegant in movements, they were contained, poised and from what Sebastian could tell, lethal in technical skill.

The young man off to their left was a little taller, he had a pair of brown eyes and his hair was browner than it was black. He was quiet as he sipped his tea and came off more tranquil than the two women beside him. Like the pair of women his posture was perfect, but he was slightly more animated, his eyes flickered occasionally to the occupants of the table before his lips would curl with a knowing smile. It was as though he knew some kind of ancient secret everyone else had failed to mention.

The doors once more opened as a louder group entered, "I told you they were meeting on the patio, honestly you're unbelievable," griped one of them loudly. Sebastian turned around to see a pair of tanned young men walking in, their skin was a beautiful olive tone with brown hair and they acted more like brother than co-workers. "You were the one who suggested the front lawn! Besides Football in the morning is well worth it!" lectured the other as he stumbled toward the table. There was a laugh as the taller of the pair gave the other a nuggy. Sebastian snorted and smiled with amusement.

The only difference between the two was that one was taller than the other, the shorter of the two had a well maintained goatee with sharp edges and was well groomed. A young woman walked in after them and rolled her eyes at their antics, "Palo! Ciro! Enough! It's bad enough your broke a vase this morning!" she chided loudly. The pair of Italians froze and looked at her with wide eyes, "Honestly, you two are children," she growled before sitting beside Sebastian and crossing her arms. Palo and Tony took their seats and looked at the table before them with a great deal of interest. She smelt of roses and had long strawberry blond hair, she was paler than they were and was rather shapely. She had a long neck and a beautiful face, her features were soft and yet pronounced. By all standards she was a beauty.

She turned her attention to Sebastian and smiled sheepishly, "I'm Antonia, those two are Palo and Ciro. I'm Ciro's older sister," she said as she extended her hand to Sebastian. The raven haired Patissier slowly felt his inhibitions fade and accepted her hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Sebastian. They aren't dull are they?" he asked as he watched the pair nearly kill one another over the last croissant. She sighed and replied, "Never a dull moment with them. It's amazing they're professional chefs, si?" She was nicer than the others and had a warmer personality, he could tell she was as nervous as he was. "Never judge a chef by their appearance," advised Ash as he held his hand out to her, "Ash Landers.

Antonia accepted his hand and nodded, "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a smile until a look of realization dawned on her face. She was about to say something when Sebastian whispered, "Don't, they'll learn it later," he had a feeling she had just put it together, and wanted to revel in their expressions when they realized they were going to be facing the previous winners. Antonia nodded and smiled as Claude put down his coffee cup and said, "Claude." She nodded to him and swept a lock of her hair behind her ear.

They were missing one group, it was nerve wracking in some ways, especially since Sebastian had a feeling they were going to be from a very familiar place. He looked over at the doors and watched as a group of three chefs entered, and he knew at that second just who they were and where they were from. Antonia was trying to talk to him only for Sebastian to hold up a hand. "My, my, Michaelis, long time no see," sneered a familiar voice. He would know it's owner anywhere, "Nicholas Castello," greeted Sebastian as he rose from his seat.

Standing in a pair of blue trousers with a blinding white shirt on was an all too familiar mouse haired brunet with a pair of narrow hazel eyes. His hair was curly as it always had been and he had a rather prominent nose, his eyebrows were thick and his lips thin as always. He had a pair of rectangular black glasses on his nose and stood with his hands in his pockets. "I heard rumor you were in New York," he mused as he took a seat across from Antonia, he flashed a charming smile to her as he did so. Sebastian watched her tense and huff before mumbling something in Italian under her breath.

"Yes, I had the fortune of opening a shop here. I heard you're still in Paris," Sebastian responded smoothly, he refused to let this man rattle him. Time and time again he had been challenged by Nicholas at Le Cordon Bleu, each time the chef was more determined than the last to defeat him. Even in class he had attempted to shove Sebastian away, he could still remember the shouting matches between Nicholas and the professors as they sided with him, rather than Nicholas. Sebastian was younger than him, and had managed to jump ahead, it wasn't a shock that he had rivals, it was this one in particular that made things far more difficult.

It also lead to the question if a certain other chef was going to appear, "Faustus is here, I should have known you would be," chimed another voice. Sebastian looked over to see Claude's worst nightmare, he may not have known Claude a great deal but from what he heard she was ruthless, Alice Gagnat. The young blonde was perhaps one of the most dangerous professionals in the industry, she was known for killer technique and expert ingredient combinations. It wasn't uncommon to hear her name whispered through the hallway.

Sebastian glanced over at Claude who was still reading his paper, he hadn't even glanced up. "Hello Alice," he greeted as he turned the page and began reading the business section, as always he sounded less than amused. She crossed her arms and huffed before stating, "Come now, you and I both know you should just pack your bag and leave." Claude continued reading only for him to ask Dieter for another cup of coffee. "You and I both know technically I am the best," he gushed. The table fell silent as they listened to the young woman gloat. Claude ignored her still and hummed as he found something interesting, "Did you know there was a surplus of pickled herring?" he asked Antonia with mock interest.

The strawberry blonde shook her head and looked at him as though he had lost it. "Apparently after tasting Mrs. Gagnat's Herring several customers felt the need to pickle it in order for it to be even remotely edible. Alice dear, you do know the fish comes dead, you don't have to kill it again," he mused with a grin. Antonia's eyes widened as she realized what he had just said, Alice turned several shades red and was about to shout when a hand was placed on her shoulder.

Standing behind her was a rather elderly man with brown eyes and silver hair. He had a number of wrinkles and looked well worn. "It's nice to see that quick wit hasn't abandoned you Faustus," he stated. Claude leaned back in his seat, a grin of triumph was plastered on his face as he did so. He nodded to the gentleman and said, "It's nice to see you again too, Marcus, I didn't think you would be competing." Marcus hummed as he took a seat in one of the only empty chairs at the table.

Marcus Stewart was a legend in his own right, the chef was creative and daring in technique when it came to cuisine, he had cooked for everyone. From the peasants to the elite he had covered the map of cuisine as well as socioeconomic status. "I didn't think I was either, until Pierre Pointe got in a car accident," he replied solemnly. Claude paused, as did the rest of the table, "I'm sorry, is he alright?" asked Claude softly. Car accidents were nothing to mess with, he knew that better than anyone since he had to help William after his. "He'll live, he's more startled than anything," he replied.

Claude nodded before having Dieter place a cup of Turkish coffee before the chef. Even if they were competitors he wasn't about to be hostile to one of the chefs who had been an idol to many. Sebastian looked over at Marcus, he could tell the chef under the mans well weathered skin was going to give them fight. The doors opened a final time, allowing for the familiar figures of Vincent and Lucius to step onto the patio.

Silence swept over the chefs once more as Vincent looked them over, "Welcome to Shadow Pond, owned by Lucius Faustus. Before we get started on the rules I would like to announce the teams and introduce the members," he began. Sebastian hummed, now it was going to begin.

Vincent gestured to the blondes at the end of the table, "Representing Germany, Chefs Hans and Catherine Schindler the husband and wife pair, owners of _Practical Magic_, and Chef Evan Glass Head Chef of _Edgewise_. The Green Team." the three nodded, Evan was the tired one and apparently the blondes were married.

"Representing Japan, Chefs Keiko and Suki Iwaki a pair of sisters from Tokyo with the shop _Bites_, and finally Chef Karu Taki Assistant Chef from the _Cardinal Hotel_. The Red Team," he introduced. The three bowed simultaneously and Sebastian mentally groaned there was no way he was going to be able to tell the twins apart.

"From Italy, Chef Palo Cruz, and brother and sister duo Chef s Antonia and Ciro Vega owners of _Cartalina_. They will be our Gold Team" he said broadly. Palo and Ciro grinned like loons before smacking one another in the arm and saying hello in rather broken English.

Vincent turned his attention to the three French chefs and said happily, "Representing France, Chefs Nicholas Verges owner of _Scarlet_, Chef Alice Gagnat Head Chef of _Circio_ and Chef Marcus Shultz 30 year reigning Head Chef of the _Ritz Hotel_ in Paris. The Navy Team." Alice and Nicholas looked less than enthusiastic, they were preoccupied with glaring at Sebastian and Claude. Marcus looked rather happy, obviously the chef was simply glad he had been suggested as a replacement.

There was one color left and suddenly Sebastian understood the black on the blade. "Represent the United States and England are the following Chefs. Chef Claude Faustus, former Head Chef of _Noir_. Chef Ash Landers, previous contestant and owner of _L'Alchemy_ and finally Chef and Master Patissier Sebastian Michaelis previous contestant, winner of the first series and owner of _Le Corbeau_. The members of the Black Team," he announced broadly.

Sebastian could feel the weight of their stares as Antonia gaped openly, "No way," breathed Keiko as she stared at him wide eyed, "We can't go against him, it's suicide!" The raven haired Patissier felt a little upset by that comment. He never intended to be the best, he simply wanted to create his food and show others that it was possible to craft dreams in sugar and cake.

~~xXx~~

Golden eyes scanned over the group, of course they were all the best of their fields, it didn't help that they were rivals in some cases. He looked over at Sebastian and hummed, the chef was still as handsome as he remembered and was wearing an all too familiar plum scarf. He smiled as he looked at the piece of fabric circling the chef's neck, it was his. The scarf that had gone missing six years ago that he was sure he had left in the Tubes. Turns out it simply found a new owner. Vincent onto the rules, he had read through the packet and knew all of them until he announced, "We have made one modification. We were approached by the Sommeleir's Association and they would like to offer their assistance. Each team will be given a Sommelier, they will aid in wine selections and cocktails, all of the selected Sommeliers have elected one of them to serve on with us."

Claude froze and nearly dropped his cup of coffee, William was with them, which meant things had certainly been kicked up. He thought it was crazy when Vincent intended to have a rematch, insane when he pinned 15 of the world's finest chefs against one another, but this was lunacy. Even the Sommeliers were jumping at the chance to play a role. "You will receive your Sommeliers as soon as you are sent to your corresponding lounges. This is also where you will get your jackets," he stated.

Each of the chefs at the table nodded and Vincent clapped his hands with a hint of joy, his brown eyes were glistening with glee. "Now the fun part! Since this will be broadcasted, we will be filming an intro, each chef will be expected to put on their team jackets and do a few shots before a green screen," he stated. The group looked shocked and Vincent chuckled.

Lucius took a step forward and Claude immediately recognized the look, he had seen it time and time again when it came to board meetings and now he was seeing it here, it meant only one thing, time to work. "In each of your lounges you will meet your Sommelier and Sponsor. Your Sponsor is responsible for your rooms, welfare and assorted items. They will be very useful in the challenges to come. I am the Black Team's Sponsor," he explained. The group was silent as they listened to Lucius, his voice filled the space and rang with the authority it was known for.

The elder Faustus smiled as he looked at Claude, "Tomorrow I will be hosting a party, it's the kickoff of the year. You will be serving your dishes there. It's a dinner for 300 people, however the food will be grilled outside, meaning it has to be easy to eat and carry. Each team must make a main course, a side and dessert. You may make more than one," he explained. Claude watched several chefs take notes as he simply committed the information to memory, in the Hamptons 300 meant to cook for 400, simply because people would get seconds.

Claude hummed, his father knew how to party, it didn't take much for him to figure out just what the party would be like. "Now then, off to your lounges, I wish you all the best. Before you ask, each venue will be overseen by a Sponsor," he stated before turning on his heel and walking into the castle once more. His words seemed to end the meeting and Claude watched the chefs rush into the castle. Leaving only himself, Ash and Sebastian at the table, Antonia had chased the other two in hopes they wouldn't break anything else.

The Head Chef wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Shall we?" as he rose from his seat. Sebastian followed him and Ash seemed to mosey in on his own. He had a feeling Ash was going to be an issue, the white haired Patissier had never been a team player. Ash was the kind of chef who liked to work on his own and was often kicked out of a kitchen for a reason. He knew where their lounge was, he had called dibs on it since it was his favorite room in the house. He walked into the solarium with a smile on his face, the room was surrounded by flowers, he spotted a few Birds of Paradise in pots and hummed, color was one of his favorite parts of this room. Sitting at a classic white metal table was Lucius, there were three empty seats and a rack with black jackets on it.

"I hope you enjoyed breakfast," said Lucius with a smile as Claude took a seat. Sebastian sat beside him and Ash across. He didn't respond, he had a feeling his father was going to say a number of different important things, and he would rather clear the air before they got into the small talk, after all these challenges were going to be radically different from their first conception. Sebastian nodded and replied, "It went well." Claude snorted, well was perhaps the understatement of the century.

Ash sighed and rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, obviously he wasn't convinced. "Today you have four hours of prep and tomorrow you will get two hours before the event. The event itself is three hours," Lucius stated he looked over the three chefs and drew a deep breath, "I know the three of you are used to being on opposite teams but I kind of want to hear what you might do."

Instantly Ash was brainstorming, "Curry lamb, it's a nice summer dish," he said with ease. Claude shook his head, they needed something that could be carried and eaten with fingers, curry lamb wasn't one of those things. "They have to be able to walk around with it," he stated and Ash growled. Sebastian was quiet as he leaned back, Claude could see him mulling over something until he said, "We need to make something that tastes like summer."

The three were quiet, the only other sound that could be heard was William walking in Ronald was trailing close behind. "Tastes like summer? Sebastian do you have any idea how broad that is?" asked Ash in frustration as he raked a hand over his face. Broad was an understatement, people viewed the taste of summer as a number of different things. For some it was hot dogs and hamburgers, others it was something light and delicate. The issue was it was the Hamptons there were expectation.

Sebastian shrugged and replied, "What about something tropical?" Ash looked less than impressed and Claude paused, tropics, he could think of one place in particular he knew people were starving for a taste of. "Cuba, I have an idea. Sebastian can you make Cuban style bread?" Claude asked after a moment. He had an insane idea but knew this could be a huge twist of the tides, after all they were expecting French cuisine, they weren't expecting Cuban.

The Raven haired Patissier nodded absently and then grinned, "Cumin," he said with a broad smile, "Mangos and limes." Obviously Sebastian was onto it and he held up a hand, "Yucca, and bananas, with a tangy grilled pork shoulder." Ash looked totally lost while Lucius even more confused until Sebastian and Claude said together, "Cubanos." The idea was a good one, the sandwich was a hit in Miami and since the film Chef had come out, people were starving for a chance to have just a taste of Cuba. It was summer which meant the spiciness would be welcomed, they would have to marinate the shoulder, and have the bread made a day before. "Banana ketchup?" asked Claude as he began planning all the different flavors in his head, it would be refreshing fun and creative.

"What the fuck is Banana Ketchup?" hissed Ash, "Am I missing something?"

Sebastian nodded and said, "Of course. It would be a crime to forget it. I can do the bread and make no-bake key-lime pie shooters the night before and prep the macarons, those taste best served fresh though," as he pulled out a pocket notebook and began scratching it down. Claude nodded, he had a feeling Sebastian was going to have fun playing with the bright flavors of the island nation. It was going to be fun to bring the island to the Hamptons and just in time.

The pair were scratching down when William asked, "Mojito, Sangria and Sangarita?" the two immediately stopped what they were doing and pointed at the Sommlier. William held his hands up in defense; he expected them to attack him. "Brilliant!" they chimed in unison. It was strange but even after six years they seemed to fall back into step with one another. They were moving at the pace they once had in the kitchen, even their thoughts were in synch as they brainstormed. At a glance no one would be able to tell that they hadn't seen one another in six years. It was as though they had always been together.

Lucius looked at the pair and hummed, "That sounds really good, I don't care how you guys do at this point I just want a sandwich," he remarked. Claude laughed warmly and shook his head, he had missed the fact that Ash was glaring daggers at him. All that mattered was for a moment he was back in step with the man he loved, things were brighter and they were about to bring a little Cuban flare to the Hamptons.

He couldn't wait to get in the kitchen and get to work.

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_**Review Replies:**_

_Glasses: Thank you for your review, I aim to please. Besides, who doesn't love good food and a complex plot? I can't wait for the next chapter I couldn't fit it all into this one so you'll see the competition next chapter. _

_Courtney: As always it's wonderful to hear from you. I thought the teams would be a fun twist, it takes a great deal to combine three chefs and ask them to create something truly wonderful. Of course Claude knows, he just hadn't said anything. Ash, well you get to see a little more of why people in the industry aren't happy with him. With Vincent strange and ironic things tend to happen. I'm glad you're dreaming about Claude and his father's car. Just wait until you see his other car, believe me you're going to love it. If you thought the Evora was hot, his second car is even nicer._

_Audry: Sebastian's in emotional turmoil, I hope this chapter cleared that up a little. VP wasn't revealed in Book 1. It will be in thisbook though. Just wait I'm going to enjoy it. I hope you continue to enjoy the suspense. Thank you for reviewing. _


	9. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **I know it took a while, however you'll find the cooking is much more in depth this time. All the recipes will be posted on the webpage under Book 2's section. I decided to do it that way, since it was far easier. Thank you for reading an I hope you like all the delicious food. For those of you who don't know, the Cubanos were taken from the film "Chef" it's wonderful and you honestly have to see it._

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**Chapter 8: Latin Inspiration**

**Challenge 1: The Hamptons, NY: Part 1**

The entire time Sebastian couldn't help but wonder just what they were being offered if they had managed to win. In all honesty he was doing the competition simply to defend his stake on being one of the best, if he didn't participate many would consider it cowardly and evidence of him being weak, rather than strong. "What do we get if we win?" asked Ash slowly, apparently the raven haired patissier wasn't the only one wondering what there was to gain from this encounter. Claude looked at Ash and replied, "$200,000 in cash, and the title of being the best. I'm not sure what else but from the way Vincent was talking each challenge has a different prize, we will probably find out more tomorrow." The white-haired Patissier sighed, he didn't seem enthusiastic about the response and Sebastian had a feeling it was going to become noticeable in his food. All he could do was pray that it wouldn't put them in jeopardy.

The shoot was quick for the introduction; each chef did a few posses and actions in their coats. It was simple really since the introduction was similar to the ones that had been shot the first time. After each chef was shot they were shown into the expansive kitchen of Shadow Pond. It was enormous, with ovens lining one wall, an island covered with burners on the range, all of them were lit with bright blue flames. The walk-ins were enormous and Claude could tell Lucius had done a great deal of renovating to create the new kitchens. Sebastian gaped openly at the new space, it was even more impressive than the first kitchen he had been in with the competitions.

"We're so not in Kansas anymore," said Ash. Each team openly gaped as Claude walked past them and claimed his area of the kitchen, with Sebastian trailing. They had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it. Claude rolled his shoulders to adjust the jet black coat and hummed happily, he was back in his element. His sleeves were rolled up as he looked around the kitchen, he had put in contacts so his glasses wouldn't slip down his nose and looked at his corner of the kitchen. Each team had a portion of the kitchen to themselves and assigned ovens, it was going to be quite a show and he couldn't wait to start.

Sebastian was opening his knife bag when Claude pulled out his mobile and scrolled through his playlists. The Patissier was confused as Claude pulled out a large clear cup, and placed it next to a Bose speaker. He dropped the mobile in the cup and smiled as the raspy voice of a man singing in Spanish filled the air, it was smooth and yet coarse. It was coupled with a piano and the roll of bongos, the beat was infectious and Sebastian stared as Claude swung his hips and did a basic cha-cha. He had never seen Claude do this, it was strange to watch a chef who was the pinnacle of professionalism swinging his hips and doing a basic dance step in the kitchen.

The eyes of every chef fell on Claude as he walked across the room, his feet following the beat as he did so and gathered his ingredients. Sebastian hummed and found himself tapping his toe as he kept time. The bright rhythms of the music seemed to carry him as he walked over the pantry and began tossing various ingredients for bread into a large metal bowl. His eyes flickered over to Claude who was walking out of the pantry with everything he required. Ash had eventually meandered into the pantry but Sebastian ignored him in favor of seeing just what Claude was going to use as brine.

Without much thought Sebastian had picked up salt, sugar, vegetable shortening, yeast, a lot of flour, oil and palmetto leaves for the seams of the bread. He had to get the loaves out of the way. "Claude how many loaves do you need?" asked Sebastian as he set down his bowl and dashed over to the sink to collect cold water. He figured as he waited for the bread to rise he could work on one of the desserts.

There was a crack as the lid of the bottle of olive oil was twisted off and the scent filled the air. With ease the green tinted and glossy oil fell from the bottle into a massive glass tray, it slipped over the surface of the glass slowly, filling the corners as it did so and brushing against the edges of the bottom. Once the oil was in he opened a canister of what looked like orange juice, Sebastian's brows flew up as he smelt the bright scent of orange hit him. The combination of oranges and olive oil was sickening. For a moment he began to question if Claude knew what he was doing.

The bright orange juice swept through the pan with ease and combined with the oil easier than he thought possible. "How long are you loaves?" asked Claude as he pulled out several limes. The knife slid through them with ease and there was a click as the blade hit the wooden board, the smell of limes coupled with the acid of the oranges made the olive oil less noticeable as it wafted toward the Patissier. Once the limes were cut in half, Claude pulled out a mallet and a smaller cup, gently he pressed the pointed and star shaped mallet into the soft flesh of the lime and the milky green juice fell into the cup.

Sebastian took out his ingredients and replied, "Standard size." Claude nodded as he continued squeezing the juice from the limes until he had enough and added that to the glass pan as well. The lime juice swirled in the pan before Claude clapped his hands together and reached for a piece of garlic. "Okay," responded Sebastian as he grabbed a glass bowl to use, he found those worked the best for bread. The smell of garlic assaulted his nose as he watched Claude minced several cloves and put them in the pan. This marinade was perhaps one of the strangest Sebastian had seen. There was a rustle as oregano was pulled out of a plastic bag and then chopped, before being tossed into the pan.

The Patissier turned his attention to his own work and decided to use a recipe he had picked up from a man he met who lived in Miami. He turned his attention to a massive industrial mixer and attached a bread hook. Once the hook was secure he poured in several gallons of cold water, and then the proper proportions of sugar and yeast with just the right amount of shortening. He turned on the machine and listened to the hook rotate, scraping the sides of the bowl as it moved.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Claude add Cilantro, mint leaves, fine sea salt, black pepper, and a splash of Cumin. It smelt heavenly, all the odd pieces were together as he smelt the mint mingle with the other spices, he could wait to see what he was going to put in the marinade. Once the mix in the mixer was smoother he began to slowly add the flour, this was tricky. Too much flour too quickly and he could shock the dough and not spread it evenly through it. He watched the lumpy mixture turn silky smooth and quickly grabbed three large bowls.

Claude was sitting before his board and was trimming the pork shoulders he had pulled from the walk in. His hands were swift as he slipped the knife through the fat, to someone who didn't know him they wouldn't know he hadn't touched a knife in three years, he looked every bit the master than as he always had. Once trimmed, he placed the shoulders in the massive glass plate, and wrapped it with cellophane; he made sure it was nice and tight as he tugged the edges of the clear plastic over the corners and edges. With the flick of a marker it was labeled and dated.

Sebastian picked up a cloth and stole the bottle of oil, he held the cloth snug to the mouth of the bottle and tipped it over quickly before straightening it. A touch of oil slipped onto the cloth, he was going to use the oil to coat the bowls so the dough wouldn't get stuck in them. The trick to making a bread like this was to place the dough in bowls and allow the yeast to activate, resulting in the bread to rise. The cloth slipped over the bowls with ease as he added an even coat of oil. The mixer was cut off and he looked over his shoulder to see Claude walking over with the massive bowl. "Here," the chef said gently.

He placed the bowl on the table and asked, "Want me to put it in bowls so you can do your prep work?" Sebastian stared at the golden-eyed chef and then nodded as he placed the cloth on the table and rubbed his hands together, "Sure, break it up in even portions, place them in the bowls and cover them with a damp cloth, allow it to double in bulk. Once it does tell me and I'll knead it," he directed. Claude simply nodded and began portioning out the dough. Sebastian watched as the chef did so with ease and then decided to work on his shooters.

Limes were a key element in Cuban food, it was one of many citrus fruits found on the island but it was the most powerful of them. Since it was difficult to visit Cuba, he was going to pull inspiration from another part of the world that was filled with Cubans, Miami, Florida. He smiled as he began juicing limes, the number of the small sour green fruits they were going through was probably more than that of a bartender on a busy night. Sebastian chuckled at the thought as he cut a few more limes in half and began juicing those as well.

Into a glass jar the juice was poured before he finally walked over to the pantry, he had to make the crust, but in order to do that he would have to do a little more work than a standard pie crust. He grabbed wheat flour, all purpose flour, baking powder and baking soda as well as brown sugar. After collecting those he grabbed molasses, milk and butter as well as chilled vanilla beans, from the walk in. As he walked back toward his bench he noticed Ash preparing a filling and putting together pastry dough.

"Sebastian, 15 minutes!" called Claude, his voice carried over the roar of the kitchen, it was amazing how it did so. The room was filled with noise as people shouted back and forth and the ovens roared, blenders were pulsing and not too far away was the reaming of a food processor. "Yes Chef!" he shouted habitually. Ash and Claude looked at him in shock before smiling at him, "Right back at you, Chef!" called Ash as he smiled and moved behind Sebastian.

The raven haired Patissier poured the all-purpose and wheat flours together as well as the baking soda, salt and baking powder, into the large bowl of a food processor. With the tap of his thumb he spun the blades watched it mix perfectly before his eyes, each layer mottled until it became one light brown mixture. Deftly, he popped the lid free and added the butter to the processor. With several more taps he had the butter mixed in, it looked more like cornmeal than anything else. Once again the lid was off and he added the molasses with care, the sticky brown substance was sweet and contrasted greatly with the tart limes he had been squeezing. The sound of blades and the machines scream filled his ears as he tapped the button, he added the milk last and was about to strip the vanilla when he noticed Claude had the beans in his hands and was stripping them, "Here," said the golden-eyed chef as he held the knife tip out and pointed it at the processor's bowl. Sebastian popped off the lid and watched as Claude scraped the blade against the lip of the bowl. "Thanks," he said softly as he continued.

Claude was aiding him, he hadn't thought the chef would, then again he had been working on the dough. "Finished with the shoulders?" asked Sebastian curiously. Claude nodded and began cutting up bananas, "I'm working on the Banana Ketchup," he stated as he removed the bright yellow peals from the fleshy fruit. A ball began forming and Sebastian smiled as he opened the lid and let out satisfied hum, the dough was just as he liked it, soft and a light and creamy tan. It was soft, pliant and he could still smell the molasses.

The dough was soft between his fingers as he began to work it on a well floured table. With ease he slipped his finger through the cool dough, "5 minutes," called Claude. Sebastian bobbed his head as he began forming a half inch disk. In seconds it was wrapped in plastic wrap and then placed in the walk in. Along the way he had washed his hands, it was nice to be working with Claude, they were falling back into step, it was refreshing to have a true professional share his space.

Sebastian rolled his shoulders and crack his knuckles before removing the cover from the bowls and looking inside them, "Doubled," he said with satisfaction before tapping the dough onto a well-floured counter. Kneading was simple, the objective is to create more gluten, which is what holds the loaf together. There are two elements naturally occurring in flour, gliaden and glutenin, when combined gluten is produced. Over and over experienced hands will stretch and fold the dough, allowing for gasses to become trapped as they do so, which in turn allows for the bread to rise.

There was a slam and Sebastian looked over to see Claude replicating his movements, "What? It's my bread," he remarked as he followed Sebastian. The Patissier shrugged and smiled as he tossed a little more flour on the board. "That it is," he stated as he placed the ball back in one bowl and pulled the one Claude wasn't working. He had been making bread since he started baking, he could remember the morning in the boulangerie, kneading it constantly and praying it would remain a full loaf.

With ease he finished the other bowl, Claude finished his and sighed, "I'll never beat you, honestly it's impressive how fast you can do that." Sebastian shrugged as he clapped his hands to get the remaining flour off and walked over to the walk in, he had another half an hour before he had to knead the dough again. Crimson eyes wandered over to Ash who was making a glaze from scratch, it made Sebastian wonder what his second element would be. He had decided to make two dishes as well as the bread, he was even making graham crackers from scratch, yet all he had seen Ash do was make rough dough. This wasn't what he wanted to see in the kitchen. He wanted to see productivity and skill, not a chef sitting on his hands.

All the while Claude had finished his bananas and was slicing and onion with a sharp chef's knife. He had cut it in half and was quickly slicing it in thin rings. He had glass bowls with each of the following in them, garlic cloves thinly sliced, freshly chopped ginger, 4 Jalapeños, a little canning liquid from the jar, Thai basil, vegetable stock, and water. There was also a container of ketchup sitting out with salt and pepper shakers. Sebastian watched Claude curiously as he finished with the onion and walked over to the stove with a large pot.

The chef quickly he poured the vegetable stock in the pan and turned it on, before tossing in the bananas, water, pickled jalapeños, fresh ginger, onion and garlic. The kitchen exploded with scents and Sebastian looked over, oddly it was a wonderful combination and made him think of just how wonderful it was to be in the tropics.

Sebastian pulled his dough for the graham crackers out of the fridge and quickly had it rolled out, perforated with a fork and on parchment. His hips swung as he danced to the Latin beat that was still spreading from Claude's phone and speakers, filling the space. He slipped the silver pan into the oven and looked over to Claude; the golden eyed chef was caught up in his work once more. It was perfectly natural for the towering chef to be watching a stove carefully, a time went off and Claude looked over at the bowls.

The Patissier was there in seconds pulling the covering off them and kneading them, his fingers working each of the balls with ease, folding them over and over again before putting them back in the bowls, for one more round of allowing them to double in size. All the while his timer went off on the oven, Claude had the pans out and was having them cool as he returned to his work. It was strange how well they worked.

Ash simply stood there and glared at them, he was making a filling, blueberry by the look of it, which only confused Sebastian. Blueberries were mundane, they weren't exotic in anyway, they were typical and predictable since Memorial Day was coming. It was as predictable as Apple Pie. Not that it was bad but it didn't have the kind of flare they were going for. He wanted something hot, exotic and spicy, a combo that would surely deliver a knockout. Claude clearly wanted to leave the ribs and burgers to the others and Sebastian understood it. They wanted to remind people that summer was around the corner and calling for fun in the sun.

Sebastian quickly grabbed a silver bowl; he threw in heavy cream, confectioner's sugar and just a touch of vanilla. He nested the bowl in his arm and quickly began to fold the cream with a whisk. He watched as it grew denser, thicker and became something very familiar whipped cream. Even if it was basic, he didn't like the idea of it coming out of a container, fresh cream made all the difference. It was a little heavier and would hold up better when he added the cream cheese. He transferred the massive bowl of whipped cream to the mixer and then added cream cheese, the lime juice he had squeezed, and condensed milk. He listened to the motor of the mixer scream as it beat the mixture. A smile curled Sebastian's lips as he picked up a lime and then zested it, the light green shavings fell into the bowl as he did so and the smell of limes hit him.

The graham crackers were cool and he quickly walked over to them, smashing them was easy, it was lining the glasses that was tough. Part of him wished Ash would help him, he had hoped that the chef would be nice enough to extend such a thing to him. Yet, Ash seemed content standing on the other side of the kitchen watching. He dashed over to the side of the room and grabbed baking trays which were lined with sparkling stem less wine glasses. He brought them over, lined each with the fresh crumbs and used melted butter to craft a crust.

Once done he ran over and sat the tray in the freezer, he expected the mixer to continue but Claude had reached it and turned it off, he smiled a little as he ran back to his work, he would have to make the macarons later. He just had to do the kneading one more time, allow it to double and then the bread would be done. Claude walked over with a towel over his shoulder and asked, "What can I do?" Sebastian jumped a little and looked up into a pair of crimson eyes, "Can you make more whipped cream?" asked Sebastian. He knew Claude knew how but wasn't sure if he would. It wasn't something a traditional chef did he usually left it for the pastry chef.

Claude nodded and smiled as he pulled a massive stainless steel bowl, more cream, confectioners sugar and vanilla, he looked to Sebastian and hummed as he grabbed a little lime. "How about a little zing?" asked Claude as he tossed the small green fruit and caught it in his palm, all the while Sebastian had started kneading the bread once more. Sebastian looked up and smiled, "Sounds good," he replied as he coated his hands in flour once again and continued to fold the bread. Claude hummed as he began the base, oddly Claude was an expert with the ratios and had yet to make a mistake.

The Patissier clapped his hands to get the excess flour off after slipping the portions back into their bowls. He then dashed to the freezer pulled out the stemless wine glasses and carried the trays back over to his station near the mixer. He glanced over to see Ash peaking into the bowls, obviously his prep was finished, whatever it really was. Sebastian filled a pastry bag with the filling and began piping it into the glasses. He loved how it filled in the space. He continued to squeeze the white filling into the glasses and smiled as the lime teased his nose, the tropical aromas were dancing and made the day seem so much brighter.

Claude walked over with the bowl of whipped cream and pulled another pastry bag. Without even being asked he was adding the tip and began adding a generous amount to the tops layers. "I'll do the fries tomorrow, what's left on your end?" asked Claude as he continued to add the whipped cream. Sebastian finished piping the filling and took a flat silver paddle over the whipped cream to even it out into one smooth surface. Claude continued adding the whipped cream, "I have to do the gouache and lime wedge, I still have to do my macarons, which I can do tomorrow," he stated. Claude held his hand out for the paddle, "I'll do that, and cute the thin rings, you do the gauche," he stated.

The Patissier stared at the hand as though it were alien before relenting and handing over the paddle. He didn't think Claude would be willing to do such a thing, in fact he had anticipated Claude telling him to figure it out. "Okay," he said quickly as he dashed back to the pantry and grabbed chocolate, butter and looked frantically for a bottle of dark rum. The butter would give the chocolate the right consistency but the dark rum would make it sweet, to act as a natural sugar when added to the melting bittersweet chocolate. "Where?" he asked in confusion.

There was a cough behind him and Sebastian turned around to see William holding out a bottle of dark rum, "Looking for this?" asked the familiar Sommelier. Sebastian grinned happily, once again the Sommelier was helping him out. "Yes, what are you doing here?" he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. William followed a few steps behind him, as though it were the most natural movement in the world. Then again back in London this was natural, it wasn't usual for them to be discussing their decisions with one another on the move.

Sebastian walked to a cutting board and made quick work of getting the chocolate out of the packages. "Easy I'm going to make the sangria, I want it to chill over night and right now is out prep and pairing time," he responded as he looked across the kitchen. Sebastian followed William's gaze and noticed several other sommeliers had entered. The Patissier simply nodded and said, "Alright." After chopping the bars up he placed them in a metal bowl.

The white cream splashed into the top portion of the double boiler as the blue flame from under the burner grew in size, burning hotter than before. He brought the cream up slowly, careful not to curdle it, he watched it boil and quickly removed it from the bottom portion of the double boiler. He added all the cream to the metal bowl which had the chocolate in it. He could smell the earthy notes of the chocolate and smiled, he was convinced this was the right move, the bittersweet chocolate was going to really make it sing. The smell of rum filled his nose as he added a touch of it, to really make it a whisk he quickly mixed the two, causing it to transform from a lumpy looking stew to a slick and smooth velvet.

Claude had finished smoothing out the tops as Sebastian walked over with the bowl, he took the large silver paddle from Claude and dipped it in the sauce, he flicked his wrist causing the strands to fall onto the glasses. Sebastian smiled as he watched Claude add the thinly sliced wedges, as always they were all the same thickness. Sebastian finished this and quickly turned his attention to the bread.

He walked over to the workbench and noticed it was coated in flour and the palmetto leaves were serialized. Claude finished the limes and smiled at him before picking up the tray and putting it in their portion of the walk in. "Obviously he's on top of it," he said. Sebastian pulled out a silver digital scale and began to split up the bowls into 10 ounce loaves. "Temp?" asked Claude curiously. Sebastian continued portion the bread and replied, "400." There was a splash off to the side and Sebastian looked up in confusion to see Claude placing a palmetto leaf down the seam. The loaves were placed on wave pans that had been sprinkled with corn flour and allowed to rise with the left side down, directly on top of the palmetto leaf.

"Time?" called Sebastian curiously across the kitchen he heard, "an hour, ten!" That was more than enough time to get this portion finished, it was easy to use up the time and knew he wouldn't be rushed. He watched the bread rise and smiled as Claude picked the pans up and put them in the ovens that were already up to temperature. "Now all we do is wait," said Claude as he helped place the pans in the ovens.

The entire time Claude was in the kitchen and the more time they spent side by side, the strangest thing occurred, Claude smiled. It wasn't a false smile like those that he flashed for the press, it was broader, warmer and far more beautiful, a genuine smile. His hands were busy and his eyes aglow, suddenly all those years of pain had been washed away by the comfort of food and the elegance of innovation.

~~xXx~~

The kitchen was busting but one corner stood out in particular, the black team's corner. They were busting into cuisine that no one else seemed to think of. William's green eyes glittered with mirth as he walked out of the pantry with several cases of Sangre de Toro to an unused bench, it wasn't typical for a Sommelier to make a drink, but when it came to wine there was no one better. William leaned on the wall for the moment, just for a moment he was a fly on the wall.

Ash wasn't doing much, which irritated the Sommelier, but he had a feeling that would change when they were put on the chopping block. He watched the pair work, Sebastian and Claude moved as though they were orbiting one another. As much as Claude grounded Sebastian, Sebastian grounded Claude, it was romantic and elegant to watch them work with each other. It made him feel a little happier; he opened each of the cases of wine and quickly began setting up large jars. He began slicing up several citrus fruits: lemons, oranges and even a few grapefruits. He placed a generous amount in each jar before adding branding to them.

Ronald had been drifting from him and for a moment he wondered if he somehow made a mess of their relationship. Prior to this they had been close, they were always telling one another things, even their darkest secrets. These days, they weren't speaking to one another, the most he received was a good morning. He missed those moments when they would simply sit on the sofa beside one another and talk. The jokes, the laughter, the coy touches and even the sweet kisses in front of a warm fire that slowly burned into the small hours of the morning, the only measure of time they truly had.

William added several measures of brandy to each jar and hummed, he missed the whispers and smiles, even the jokes they had between them. He wanted his lover back, the young man who reveled in riddles and could hack just about anything. His clever and adventurous lover, with the heart of a lion and the ingenuity of a snake, he missed him dearly to the point it hurt. William added a layer of simple syrup to the concoction, just to make it a little sweet, something to make his life seem less acidic.

Claude and Sebastian moved once again and William watched in awe, it was as though they were waltzing around the kitchen, predicting each other's moves and acting on them. He had to fix this, the Sommelier placed his hands on the counter as he leaned against it. He had to show them he meant business, and didn't like the fact that once again they had been dragged into this. The cards had appeared once again and he had a sickening feeling that this time they wouldn't be in the background as much as they had before. Even if being thrust into the spotlight for the show was bad, his primary concern was people find out what they had done six years ago, they had broken a number of laws and he didn't want to spend his life in prison.

William poured the bottles evenly into the jars; he had to figure a way out. Typically he would turn to Vincent for help, however there's a funny thing about the player. In their mind the pieces were dispensable; ever since this started William knew it was possible for both himself and Ronald to be disposed of. He had to find a way to prevent that from happening that would only happen if he could prove his value. He may have been close to the highest ranking in the last game but he sincerely doubted he was still in favor with the king now. After all, he had never returned Vincent's calls or told him where Sebastian was.

Falling out of favor with the rest of the house was damaging and this was going to be, he had gone against the king and now he was going to pay. The question was just how dearly he would, he had to figure out a way to protect not only himself but Ronald, Claude and Sebastian. He couldn't bear to see them hurt, especially when he had promised he would keep them safe. The gold lids of the jars twisted with a hint of finality as William secured every last one of them to the proper jar.

He had to plan if they were going to get out of this, to make it out in one piece. The issue was he had to know what Ronald was hiding and dispose of Ash or at least snap some sense into him. If he could get the irritating man to see just what was happening then he would have another piece on the board under his influence. Friends were the key to staying alive and he didn't want things to escalate to the magnitude they had six years ago. They had nearly lost everything that time.

The Sommelier placed all the jars in the crates in which the bottles had been and moved them into the walk in, the wanted them to chill overnight so the flavors would mold to one another harmonizing them. His strides were even as he placed the crates in their corner of the walk in, he noticed one of the desserts and smiled. They were going to try something gutsy, to introduce Cuban food, which wasn't considered five-star, to the Hamptons. He knew the risk but had a feeling it would pay off. Alois had already been given a chance to work through the Mojito and Sangritas, he didn't want to miss out on a chance to actually show his skills. They had yet to learn of the blonde's arrival in New York though. That was something for the next morning.

William washed his hands once more before slowly slipping out of the kitchen, he didn't like the idea of the three chefs being thrown into the spotlight, it would only cause misery. Especially with the past of Sebastian's and Claude's, he could only guess what would arise from their return, and didn't want to think about it too greatly.

~~xXx~~

The bread was a perfect golden brown and not long after it had finished and was put away for safe keeping they were told time was up, at that point they hadn't even realized they burned into the night. It was just a breath after eleven pm. Morpheus was waiting patiently for the chefs as they staggered from the kitchen, one by one, with exhausted hands and sore feet. Yet there were lazy smiles on their faces, despite their glassy eyes. In their world they had just been pushed for all they had and tomorrow was only going to just start them off.

Watching them walk out was a pair of clear brown eyes, a smile curled their owners lips as he swept a stray lock of slate blue hair out of his eyes. "Welcome to the game," he said darkly as he watched them all walk toward their rooms. He anticipated the coming evening with excitement; after all it was going to be quite something. He leaned against the railing on his elbows and smirked, "I was wondering when I was going to see you checking them out," commented a familiar voice.

The Englishman turned around and leaned against the railing, he smirked lazily as he crossed his ankles. Standing before him was none other than his well bread, groomed and trained German guard dog. A pair of crystal blue eyes stared at him, his brown hair was parted to the side and he towered over the shorter man. Yet, despite his physical height he was merely a shadow compared to the power that radiated off the English noble. "Diederich, I was wondering where you were," stated the nobleman as he crossed his arms, "How do they look?" he asked, his curiosity working it's way into his voice as always.

Diederich clasped his hands before him and responded, "They're diverse, with a great deal of different influences, but I think you'll enjoy the dishes they have planned for tomorrow." As always the German stood at attention, despite all their years together Diederich still stood ready to take orders from the noble. Vincent nodded, he seemed stoic but the truth was he was planning his next move. A long slender finger with a glistening blue diamond, a chip of the hope diamond, on a silver band glistened in the dim lights of the hallway as the earl ran a finger over his lower lip.

Once more he had succumbed to thought, games were something Vincent was very good at. Ever since the Earl was a child he played them, working hard to be the best in the room, regardless of age, and risk. "The knives and the list of chefs, the French ones weren't on it, neither were the Italians," stated Vincent as he watched them all disappear from view, each walking toward their rooms.

He had selected three very different chefs and the Italians weren't even there, he hadn't planned for five teams, it was only to be four. Yet here they were with five, he had to change the contract last minute to accommodate the new chefs. The knife blocks were a nice twist, especially since the handles of each blade were the color of the teams jackets, it was an interesting way to present an invitation. The only thing he didn't understand was why Sebastian, Claude and Ash were in black, he had expected white. White was the traditional color of a chef, yet the three were clad in ink black jackets.

"Vince?" asked Diederich, not even the German realized they weren't on the list. Vincent had managed to maneuver all his resources to make the accommodations seamless. "How will this affect us?' he asked, "William's on edge and seems weary of us." Vincent hummed, the Sommelier hadn't told him where the Patissier was hiding, the one man who had managed to cause his restaurant to fall. He wasn't annoyed as much as he was intrigued, William didn't form many attachments. The Sommelier was like a cat in that way, he only asked for aid when he was in dire need and avoided attachment unless essential or the emotions were too strong for him to suppress.

The issue was he didn't know just who William belonged to, in many ways he believed the Sommelier was his, but there were a number of incidents in the past which told him otherwise. All of these actions seemed to stated William wasn't even remotely his, "I don't know, but I'm sure we will figure it out," he stated. All he had to do was wait and see just what the man would do next, after all once he knew how a piece moved he could predict it's placement on the board and determine if he was truly a friend of foe.

Vincent was nudged by Diderich, he was holding a phone, "London, someone named Matthias, he's a Medical Examiner from Scotland Yard, the replacement for Platt," stated the German as he handed the mobile to Vincent. The noble took the mobile and held it to his ear expectantly; it wasn't unusual for him to be introduced especially thanks to his line of work. Medical Examiners were relatively difficult to come by and often proved useful when keeping the demons at bay. "I'm sorry to call at such a time but I stumbled across an interesting file," came a rather nasally voice from the other end.

The Earl suppressed a sigh, he had a feeling Platt was keeping records to keep his head straight, all he had to do was have them burned and be done with it. "What?" asked Vincent as he feigned interest, knowing all he would do later was have Phipps steal the documents. "An autopsy report as well as photos for the driver involved in the crash with your wife," replied the man slowly, as though he himself couldn't believe what he was looking at. Vincent paled and felt his grip on the sleek device increase, "What?" he asked once more, alarm had worked it's way into his voice.

He remembered Phipps showing him the man who had killed her and now he was being told there was an autopsy. Vincent knew full well the man wasn't dead, he was having him watched, just so if there was an opportunity he could dispose of the man who hurt him. "According to this he was dead before being placed in the vehicle and hitting your wife, which makes no sense," stated Matthias. By that point Vincent wasn't listening his head spun before he said coolly, "Send a copy to me and the original to my home, destroy any other copies."

Seconds later Diederich was firing off their address. Pieces were once more tossed into the air, his wife was killed by a dead man, which was impossible. It broke all rules of logic, after all it's impossible for a corpse to drive a car. Science doesn't lie, it never does, in fact it's the only thing that provides truth in chaos.

Diederich hung up only for Vincent to clench his fists once more and hiss, "He lied."

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_**Review Replies:**_

Courtney: It was superb. Thank you for reviewing, of course. Claude is a bit more observant this time around, I decided to cover he prep work this time, the party is next chapter. Ash is going to be an issue, if you haven't noticed but to be honest he may be minor compared to everything else that seemed to happen in this chapter. They're going to get back into it, just wait it's really going to mess with you.

Anonymous: School first. Thanks for reviewing though, I love hearing from you. I've been excited to start this one for a while, and I hope I don't disappoint. Well there's always been an interesting relationship between Claude and Sebastian, and now you get to see even more of it.


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